ALBERT  •  L  •  LAWRENCE 


Property  of 

ORLANDO  J.  ROOT 


6. 


THE    WOLVERINE 


OP 


CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  AWWU» 


V 

M  rf 

A  ,-V 

x/v    ? 

\ 


A 


The  Wolverine 

A  Romance  of  Early  Michigan 


BY 


Albert  Lathrop  Lawrence 


With  Illustrations  from  Drawings  by 


ARTHUR    E.    BECKER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1904 


Copyright,  1904, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 

All  rights  reserved. 


Published  October,   1904 


printers 
8.  J.  PABKHILL  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A.. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


" '  BUT    YOU     TOLD      ME    ONCE      YOU     HAD      FORGIVEN 
ME      THAT,'     REPLIED      MARIE,      LIFTING     HER 

FACE  TOWARD  His " Frontispiece 

"THEN   WITH    GENTLE     DEFTNESS     SHE     POURED     THE 

TEA" Page     55 

" '  LET'S    DON'T    SAT    ANYTHING.     ONLY    LOOK    AT 

THE  FIRE  ' " "99 

"  PERRY   AND    BAPTISTE  CONTINUED   TO    STRUGGLE 
WITH  ALL   THE    FURY  OF    GREAT    MUSCULAR 

MEN  " "        251 


2130897 


THE  WOLVERINE 


CHAPTER   I. 

WHEN  you  had  grown  tired  of  being  an 
Indian,  having  taken  so  many  scalps  that 
the  very  dregs  of  novelty  had  been  drunk, 
there  was  always  the  game  of  pirates  in  waiting.  It 
required  but  a  nod  from  your  leader's  imagination, 
and  new  life  was  at  once  put  into  the  day's  sport.  But 
if,  while  you  were  digging  a  hole  in  which  to  bury 
the  blood-bought  treasure,  your  spade  hit  on  some- 
thing hard  and  mysterious,  everything  changed  at 
once.  You  were  now  respectable,  law-abiding  people, 
suddenly  come  upon  some  robbers'  rich  hoard;  for 
in  sober  earnest  you  knew  that  pirates  had  never 
visited  this  region  of  the  Great  Lakes,  a  thousand 
miles  from  the  sea,  and  therefore  this  was  no  treasure 
from  the  Spanish  Main  which  you  were  uncovering. 
Your  enthusiasm,  however,  increased  a  thousand 
fold.  It  was  no  play  now.  This  was  truly. 

"Lemme  git  at  it  with  me  pick!"  cries  Dan  ex- 
citedly. "Gi'  me  a  chance't  there,  Frenchy!" 

"Zain't  no  robber  treasor,"  returns  Francois,  stub- 
bornly refusing  to  give  place,  though  he  was  smaller 
and  must  yield  at  last.  "She  hones'  treasor.  I  know 


2  The  Wolverine 

what  she  ees.  Mere  Gobielle  tol'  me.  Mere  Gobielle 
she  was  leettle  zen,  an'  remember  all  about  zem 
times;  Bloody  Run,  ze  fire  ships,  ol'  Pontiac.  Antoine 
Golais  burie'  his  riches,  an'  mak'  quick  to  get  into  ze 
Fort  Leef  me  alone,  Dan  Hooks!  Zis  ees  mine!  Zis 
ees  French  treasor!" 

"Out  of  my  way,  Frenchy/'  Dan  now  commanded, 
roughly  pushing  the  other  aside.  "I  don't  know  no 
Ontwon  Golay.  You  go  claimin'  the  hull  an'  you 
don't  git  none  o'  this  'ere  treasure!" 

"Of  course  you  not  know  him.  You  peoples  no 
leef  here  long  'nough  for  zat.  Nobody  knows  where 
he  burie'  his  treasor.  He  tol'  nobody.  An'  he  was 
kill'  at  Bloody  Run.  Mere  Gobielle  she  tol'  me;  she 
tol'  me  manee  times  all  anybody  can  tell.  Ze  treasor 
ees  French  treasor,  an'  nobody  can  haf  eet  but  ze 
French.  You  hear  me  tell  you,  Dan  Hooks!" 

"Oh,  I  hear  you,  Frenchy.  An'  I've  heard  little 
froggies  croak  before  now." 

"Let's  put  him  in  the  hole  after  we've  dug  out  the 
treasure!"  suggested  Dick  Weaver.  "Oh,  let's  put 
Frenchy  Beaucceur  in  the  hole!"  And  his  com- 
panions took  up  the  cry  and  began  to  dance  about 
Francois  like  a  band  of  Wyandots,  screaming  their 
determination. 

"Naw,  naw!"  yelled  their  leader  above  the  din,  while 
he  paused  in  his  labors  with  the  spade.  "But  if  he 
don't  shut  his  mouth,  an*  quit  whinin',  we'll  throw 
him  into  the  Savoyard,  where  all  the  froggies  go." 

"Ha!  ha!"  cried  the  band,  obedient  to  its  leader. 
"Into  the  Savoyard!  Throw  him  into  the  Savoyard! 
Frenchy  eat  froggy;  froggy  eat  Frenchy!  Ha!  ha!" 


The  Wolverine  3 

"You  not  talk  to  me  like  zat  eef  Louis  was  here — 
or  Isadora  Dupre — or  Pierre  Lievre.  An'  I  tell  zem 
bime-by." 

Indeed,  the  English-speaking  boys  had  taken  ad- 
vantage of  being  vastly  in  the  majority,  a  thing  that 
at  this  early  day  rarely  occurred  in  the  old  French 
town  now  undergoing  metamorphosis. 

The  clamor  suddenly  came  to  an  end  when  Dan 
pried  out  an  old  rusty  gun-barrel,  the  stock  of  which 
had  rotted  and  fallen  away.  Then  followed  the  skull 
and  a  few  crumbling  bones  of  some  Indian  or  early 
European,  who  had  lost  his  life  on  this  oft-contested 
ground.  At  once  the  boys  began  an  awed  specula- 
tion; some  argued  for  a  French  origin  for  the  bones, 
some  for  an  English,  and  some  placed  them  to  the 
credit  of  various  Indian  tribes.  The  relics  were  poked 
over,  handled  gingerly,  and  passed  about.  The 
probable  time  of  death  was  discussed,  and  old  legends 
were  called  up — of  the  Raisin  massacre,  of  Simon 
Girty,  of  Knaggs  and  the  Navarres,  of  Pontiac  and 
his  red  followers;  until  the  boys  felt  the  blood  crawling 
in  their  veins,  and  fairly  trembled  for  safety  at  their 
distance  from  the  town.  Then  Dan  felt  his  disappoint- 
ment in  the  sort  of  treasure  they  had  unearthed,  and 
sought  consolation  in  the  joy  of  teasing  Francois 
Beaucoeur. 

"French  treasure,  is  it?"  he  cried.  "Then  into  the 
Savoyard  it  goes.  Ah!  Frenchy  will  have  the  hull  of 
it,  will  he?  Then  into  the  Savoyard  he  goes  after  it! 
Come  on,  kids!  ketch  the  Black  Frenchman!" 

"Non,  non!"  screamed  Francois,  turning  to  run. 
"I  will  tell  Louis.  I  will  tell  monsieur  le  gouverneur! 


4  The  Wolverine 

I  am  no  Black  French.  You  Black  American — Black 
Anglish!  Bad!  Leef  me  go,  Dan  Hooks!  Leef  me 
go,  all!" 

They  had  caught  him  and  were  dragging  him 
toward  the  little  stream,  which  flowed  between  them 
and  the  town,  when,  without  warning,  his  sister  ap- 
peared on  the  opposite  bank. 

"Boys!  boys!  what  is  it  you  are  doing?"  she  called, 
with  the  slightest  French  accent  in  her  words.  "Take 
hands  off  Franqois  at  once.  You  will  hurt  him! 
Boys,  you  will  hurt  him!" 

She  looked  swiftly,  anxiously,  up  and  down  the 
stream  for  some  place  to  cross  to  her  brother's  aid. 
It  was  too  far  to  the  little  bridge,  and  the  muddy 
water,  though  neither  wide  nor  deep,  would  ruin 
her  shoes  and  soil  her  pretty  gown,  if  she  tried  to 
make  the  passage  on  the  partially  immersed  and 
wholly  uncertain  stones,  over  which  the  boys 
came  and  went  at  pleasure.  Ah!  how  she  would 
have  boxed  their  ears  and  sent  them  to  the  right 
and  left,  if  she  were  but  near  enough. 

Frangois  had  given  up  hope  of  escaping  the  duck- 
ing, and  was  thinking  at  what  moment  he  should 
stop  screaming  and  close  his  mouth  with  one  full 
breath,  that  he  might  not  strangle  when  the  fatal 
plunge  came;  and  his  sister,  in  despair,  was  about 
to  close  her  eyes  against  the  cruelty  of  those  deaf 
alike  to  threats  and  entreaty,  when  suddenly  a  cham- 
pion appeared  out  of  the  woods  on  the  farther  bank, 
and  hastened  to  her  brother's  aid.  He  was  a 
stranger,  tall,  and  athletic  in  proportions,  with  long 
yellow  hair,  and  a  keen  blue  eye  that  took  in  the 


The  Wolverine  5 

situation  at  a  glance.  His  face  kindled  in  holy  wrath, 
and  his  strong  arm  seemed  without  mercy,  while  he 
dealt  blows  to  the  right  and  left,  hopelessly  scatter- 
ing the  parcel  of  youthful  bullies,  who  fled  in  every 
direction  as  if  very  life  depended  on  the  nimbleness 
of  their  sturdy  legs. 

"Dieu  merci!"  breathed  Marie  Beaucoeur  in  glad 
relief.  She  was  not  likely  soon  to  forget  the  face  of 
him  who  had  proved  a  friend  in  her  brothers  need. 

Francois  had  lost  no  time  in  springing  from 
boulder  to  boulder  across  the  stream  which  separated 
him  from  his  sister  and  safety,  and  when  the  battle 
was  over,  he  was  standing  by  Marie's  side,  his  face 
wreathed  in  smiles  at  the  discomfiture  of  his  enemies. 

"I  thank  you,  sir/'  said  Marie  to  the  stranger,  as 
he  paused  before  resuming  the  stick  and  pack  which 
he  had  carried  on  his  shoulder  previous  to  the 
onslaught. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  returned,  with  a  movement  of  his 
hand  toward  his  hat.  "It  was  a  real  pleasure,"  he 
assured  her,  with  such  grace  as  he  could  command,  for 
he  had  not  been  trained  to  court  manners. 

Marie  was  all  gratitude  at  the  moment,  but  that 
did  not  prevent  her  from  storing  up  a  picture  of  the 
fellow  to  mimic  and  laugh  over  when  alone.  Had 
she  been  a  commonplace  person  the  other  would 
have  been  quite  at  ease.  But  her  marvellous  beauty 
smote  him  irresistibly,  and  because  of  that  and  her 
sex,  everything  about  his  own  person  seemed  forced 
upon  his  consciousness.  To  cover  his  embarrass- 
ment he  looked  up  and  down  the  stream  for  a  place 
to  cross. 


6  The  Wolverine 

"Ze  water  eet  ees  leettle  on  ze  stones/'  said  Fran- 
gois,  guessing  the  stranger's  intention.  "Voila!"  he 
called  the  next  instant,  and  pointing,  he  darted  up 
the  Savoyard  a  few  rods  to  another  fording  place. 
"Come,"  he  cried;  "mak'  long  step,  big  jump,  an' 
ze  feet  zey  are  not  wet  at  all.  I  will  carry  ze  pack. 
My  feet  zey  are  already  ver'  wet;  eet  mak'  no  differ- 
ent. Eet  was  a  grand  fight!  You  haf  mooch  mooscle!" 
And  he  laughed  as  he  looked  back  where  his  enemies 
had  gathered  to  console  themselves. 

"A  stranger  in  Detroit,  are  you  not?"  questioned 
Marie  Beaucceur,  when  she  came  up  with  her 
brother  and  his  new  friend,  who  in  the  meantime 
had  made  the  passage  of  the  Savoyard  dry  shod, 
thanks  to  his  strength  and  agility. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  a  stranger,"  he  answered.  "But  I 
hope  to  make  it  my  future  home.  Massachusetts 
has  been  my  home.  To-day  I  came  from  Monroe — 
walked  most  of  the  way,  though  I  did  get  a  ride  with 
a  farmer  for  a  few  miles.  My  name  is  Perry  North." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  welcome  you  to  Detroit,  Mr. 
North,"  the  girl  returned,  and  Perry  was  not  sorry 
he  had  yielded  to  Frangois  and  waited  for  his  sister 
to  join  them.  His  natural  diffidence  had  prompted 
him  to  continue  his  way  alone  after  crossing  the 
Savoyard,  but  Frangois  had  clung  to  the  pack  as  if 
of  course  the  three  would  walk  into  town  together. 
And  now,  as  his  sister  did  not  immediately  return 
the  stranger's  self-introduction,  the  young  man  took 
it  on  himself  to  make  them  known. 

"My  name  eet  ees  Frangois  Beaucoeur,  and  she 
eet  ees  my  sister,  Marie  Louise.  We  leev  not  ver' 


The  Wolverine  7 

far  in  zat  part  of  ze  town,"  he  continued,  pointing 
from  their  elevated  position,  over  a  score  of  rather 
small,  red,  and  white,  wooden  houses.  "Eet  ees  ze 
suppertime,  Marie,  why  do  you  not  ask  monsieur  to 
go  home  wit'  us?  I  would  be  ver'  glad " 

"Why  do  I  not?"  she  repeated.  "Because,  mon 
petit  frere,  you  have  not  given  me  a  chance  to  say 
one  little  word."  And  she  gave  North  a  look  and 
smile  that  was  the  sweetest  form  of  invitation. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Beaucceur;  thank  you  both," 
said  Perry,  transferring  his  pack  to  the  other  shoul- 
der. "But  I  have  a  friend  expecting  me  at  the  Steam- 
boat Hotel,  and  I  think  I  had  better  go  there  at 
once." 

"Ah,  for  why  ees  eet  zat  you  walk,  Meester  Nort'?" 
interjected  the  lad.  "Moos'  people  zey  come  on  ze 
steamboat.  Efair  day  eet  ees  anot'er  boat;  an'  black 
all  round  ze  sides  an'  on  ze  wheelbox — black  wit* 
people.  Monsieur  Baddeau  he  ver*  mad.  An*  so 
mon  pere.  Ah — my  fat'er — he  ver5  mad,  also.  Many 
people  zey  mak'  ceety  where  ees  land — farms.  My 
fat'er  he  not  like  ze  ceety.  He  like  ze  farm." 

His  sister's  laugh  rang  on  the  evening  air.  Her 
manner  so  completely  absorbed  North  that  he  allowed 
an  instant  to  pass  before  replying  to  the  boy's  ques- 
tion, and  by  that  time  the  sister  had  started  a  dis- 
cussion which  drove  the  question  from  the  minds 
of  all. 

"Francois,  your  English  will  be  the  death  of  me! 
Oh,  it  is  so  very  funny!  And  Mr.  North  is  just  ready 
to  die,  too,  because  he  will  not  laugh  in  your  face." 

"Then  I  will  not  speak  English  at  all,  if  you  laugh 


8  The  Wolverine 

at  me  and  make  fun  of  me  before  the  gentleman!" 
declared  Franqois  in  a  good  and  sturdy  French  patois. 

"Oh,  you  will  not!  Then  how  will  you  speak  to 
the  gentleman?" 

Francois  turned  suddenly  toward  North,  for  whom 
he  had  formed  a  quick  liking.  "Parlez-vous  fran- 
gais?"  he  questioned,  his  face  showing  doubt  and 
hope  by  turn. 

"I  am  sorry  I  do  not/'  answered  Perry. 

"Vous  comprenez!"  cried  the  lad,  as  if,*  in  the 
moment  of  defeat,  he  had  snatched  half  a  victory. 
But  he  was  doomed  to  crushing  disappointment. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Perry;  and  Marie  went  off 
in  a  merry  burst  of  laughter. 

"Everyone  knows  'Parlez-vous  franqais?'  mon 
frere,"  declared  his  sister.  "And  you  will  be  com- 
pelled to  speak  the  English  to  Mr.  North.  Our 
father  will  be  rejoiced,  for  he  wishes  all  his  children 
to  learn  the  English  perfectly" — this  to  the  stranger. 

"Well,  Franqois,"  returned  North,  with  friendly  air, 
"I  will  teach  you  English  if  you  will  teach  me  French  ; 
and  I'll  promise  not  to  make  sport  of  your  English 
if  you'll  not  laugh  at  my  French.  What  do  you  say 
— is  it  a  bargain?" 

"Will  monsieur  teach  me  ze  fight?" — and  he  put 
up  his  little  fists  in  a  very  pugilistic  attitude.  "Zen 
I  can  whip  ze  Anglish  boys  al-ways  when  zey  will 
fight  me.  Ees  eet  not  so?" 

"If  you  will  promise  never  to  whip  me,"  agreed 
North,  with  a  look  to  Marie  to  share  in  his  humor. 

But  before  his  sister  laughed,  Francois  under- 
stood the  stranger  too  would  make  sport  of  him, 


The  Wolverine  9 

and  such  a  look  came  into  his  face  as  smote  Perry's 
manly  heart. 

"No,  no!"  he  exclaimed,  seeking  to  recall  his 
words.  "Then  it  is  a  bargain,"  he  added. 

They  had  reached  a  point  where  the  path  branched. 
Marie  drew  her  brother  aside.  "This  is  a  shorter 
way  to  our  home,"  she  explained  to  North.  "The 
other  will  lead  you  into  the  town." 

"And  to  the  Steamboat  Hotel?"  he  questioned, 
regretting  to  lose  so  charming  a  companion. 

"I  will  point  monsieur  ze  way,"  declared  Franqois, 
springing  from  his  sister's  side.  Then  with  boyish 
imperiousness  he  directed  Marie  to  take  the  new  path, 
while  he  would  continue  with  monsieur,  and  after- 
ward, running,  would  be  the  first  to  reach  home. 

"If  the  English  boys  do  not  overtake  you,"  inter- 
jected Perry,  hoping  to  alarm  Francois  so  he  would 
persuade  his  sister  to  accompany  them  into  town. 

"Oh,  zey  will  not  follow,"  declared  the  lad  confi- 
dently, and  Perry  was  forced  to  bid  his  new  acquaint- 
ance good  evening. 

He  and  his  guide  kept  up  a  sprightly  conversation 
to  the  very  door  of  the  hotel.  Perry  continued  to 
see  the  sister's  eyes  where  properly  belonged  the 
lad's  own;  and  the  smile  of  his  lips  was  so  like  the 
other's  too.  The  shrug  of  the  little  shoulders  recalled 
Marie's  manner  when  she  had  laughingly  declared: 
"Everyone  knows  'Parlez-vous  franc.ais?' "  What  a 
delightful  experience  he  had  had. 

Then  came  the  moment  of  parting.  Invitations 
were  given  and  promises  of  other  meetings  exchanged. 


io  The  Wolverine 

Perry  repeated  his  "Good  evening/'  adding,  "I  am 
much  obliged  for  your  kindness,  Francois." 

"Bon  soir,"  answered  Frangois,  and  explained:  "Eet 
ees  'good  evening.'  Eet  ees  ze  firs'  lesson." 

And  all  smiles,  with  a  pretty  wave  of  the  hand, 
he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   II. 

DETROIT  at  this  time  contained  not  far  from 
three  thousand  souls,  about  half  of  whom  were 
of  French  descent.  Emigrants  from  the  East- 
ern States,  mostly  of  English  extraction,  a  few  Indi- 
ans, some  half-breeds,  and  a  sprinkling  of  German, 
Scotch,  and  Negro  types,  made  up  the  remaining 
population.  The  Erie  Canal  through  New  York 
State  had  just  been  completed,  and  a  flood  of  new 
settlers  was  pouring  in.  As  yet,  however,  the  town 
was  scarcely  built  three  streets  beyond  the  river  front, 
along  which  it  lay,  incongruous  in  its  mixture  of  the 
old  and  the  new,  bearing  many  signs  of  the  frontier 
military  and  trading  post,  out  of  which  it  was  slowly 
evolving. 

Excepting  the  French  element,  Perry  North  was 
quite  at  home  in  his  new  surroundings.  Sprung  from 
Puritan  ancestors  and  reared  by  a  widowed  mother 
on  a  stony  New  England  farm,  he  was  used  to  priva- 
tion and  hardship.  His  early  education  had  been 
gained  largely  from  borrowed  books,  which,  after 
the  closest  economy,  he  had  supplemented  with  a 
short  course  at  the  "Academy,"  as  the  advanced 


12  The  Wolverine 

country  school  was  called.  He  had  fitted  himself  for 
a  land  surveyor,  and  it  was  the  promise  of  employ- 
ment in  his  chosen  profession  that  had  brought  him 
to  Detroit. 

At  the  hotel  he  received  his  first  disappointment, 
for  the  friend  whom  he  expected  to  find  had  been 
called  into  the  interior.  This  friend  was  the  Terri- 
torial Representative  in  Congress,  Lucius  Lyon,  him- 
self a  young  man,  and  formerly  employed  as  a  gov- 
ernment surveyor.  Back  in  New  England  their 
families  had  been  connected,  and  it  was  this  claim 
which  led  North  to  apply  to  him  when  he  wished  for 
advancement.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait 
patiently  for  the  Congressman's  return,  which,  ac- 
cording to  word  left  behind,  would  not  be  for  three 
or  four  days. 

The  early  part  of  the  evening  Perry  sat  in  the 
poorly-lighted  hotel  office,  listening  to  the  politics 
of  the  Territory.  The  new  Secretary  had  just  arrived, 
a  young  man  from  Virginia,  Stevens  Thompson 
Mason  by  name;  and  the  fact  that  he  had  not  yet 
attained  his  majority  gave  rise  to  severe  criticism  on 
the  part  of  men  of  experience,  who  did  not  relish 
being  ruled  by  a  mere  stripling.  Later,  there  was 
singing  in  the  ladies'  parlor,  up  one  flight  of  stairs; 
and  the  landlord,  coming  to  North,  invited  him  to 
join  those  listening. 

"I  want  you  to  meet  my  brother  by  and  by,"  said 
his  genial  host.  "He's  at  the  organ  there,  now.  He's 
quite  a  literary  man,  historian,  poet,  and  all  that  sort. 
He's  going  to  sing  one  of  his  own  songs  shortly,  at 
the  request  of  Governor  Cass.  That's  the  Governor 


The  Wolverine  13 

over  there,  just  beyond  the  organ, — the  one  with 
his  head  thrown  back  looking  at  the  ceiling — rather 
portly,  with  striking  face.  He  drops  in  here  fre- 
quently of  an  evening.  I  didn't  know  but  I  could 
point  out  the  new  Secretary  to  you,  too.  But  he's 
stopping  over  at  the  American.  He's  been  in  here; 
but  I  don't  see  him  now." 

Then  "Uncle  Ben"— as  the  landlord  was  com- 
monly called — paused  in  his  explanation,  for  the 
music  began.  Perry  listened  to  the  song,  "The  Old 
Oaken  Bucket,"  as  it  was  sung  by  the  man  who  wrote 
the  words — Samuel  Wood  worth. 

"He's  here  on  a  visit,"  the  landlord  explained  in 
an  intermission.  "I  expect  we'll  get  a  good  deal  of 
that  while  he  stays."  And  he  looked  proud  and 
happy.  He  liked  to  feel  the  importance  of  the 
hostelry  of  which  he  was  head.  Uncle  Ben  was  al- 
ways attentive  to  his  guests,  but  a  friend  of  Lucius 
Lyon's  was  worthy  of  additional  effort,  for  Lyon 
was  one  of  the  big  men  of  the  Territory. 

It  was  late  when  Perry  reached  his  room  that  night. 
Nevertheless,  he  began  a  letter  to  his  mother  and 
sister  back  in  Massachusetts,  with  the  intention  of 
adding  to  it  from  time  to  time,  till  it  should  reach 
fair  proportions.  The  postage  might  be  as  high 
as  two  shillings,  and  it  stood  him  in  hand  to  send 
something  of  real  value.  But  he  could  hardly  fail  to 
be  interesting,  as  he  wrote  of  the  grave  he  had  visited 
on  his  way;  of  the  strange  Providence  that  had  led 
his  father  West  at  a  critical  period  in  the  Nation's 
history,  there  to  sacrifice  his  life  in  a  glorious  defense 


1 4  The  Wolverine 

of  the  flag,  after  sending  back  a  name  for  the  son 
he  was  never  to  see. 

When  Perry  blew  out  his  ill-smelling  light  and 
crawled  into  bed  these  things  ceased  to  occupy  his 
thoughts  and  pretty  Marie  Beaucoeur  with  her  dark 
eyes  and  cherry  lips,  her  charming  form,  perfect  in 
all  its  animation,  came  and  possessed  his  mind  for  the 
five  minutes  that  preceded  the  seven  hours  of  dream- 
less slumber. 

Immediately  after  his  breakfast  next  morning,  Perry 
sallied  into  the  streets  to  acquaint  himself  with  the 
town  which  was  likely  to  be  his  home  for  the  future. 
He  went  first  to  the  wharf  to  see  if  his  belongings 
sent  by  boat  had  yet  arrived.  He  had  preferred  to 
make  the  last  part  of  his  journey  by  land,  that  he 
might  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  country  which  would 
be  an  advantage  to  him  when  he  should  have  money 
to  invest.  There  was  no  lack  of  sights  to  interest 
him  now  on  every  hand:  the  shaggy,  Canadian 
ponies;  the  odd  two-wheeled  carts;  the  quaint  wind- 
mills for  grinding  grain ;  and  the  easy-going,  pleasure- 
loving  French  habitant,  jostled  and  awakened  by  the 
energetic,  bustling  emigrant  from  New  York  and 
New  England. 

In  the  afternoon  he  met  his  young  friend,  Frangois 
Beaucceur,  at  the  hotel  door,  come  in  search  of  him. 
Together  they  resumed  sight-seeing  through  the  town 
and  adjacent  country;  and  for  three  days  this  con- 
tinued with  no  interruption,  save  intervals  for  meals 
and  rest.  Francois  proved  a  charming  guide,  for  he 
was  acquainted  with  every  foot  of  ground,  and  had 
some  story  to  tell  of  nearly  every  object,  mingling 


The  Wolverine  15 

history  and  legend  in  his  narrative  in  a  manner  to 
form  the  most  fascinating  romance;  and  the  whole 
was  told  with  such  boyish  naivete,  and  quaint,  broken 
English  that  Perry  never  grew  tired  of  listening.  Did 
the  narrator  fall  into  a  dull  moment,  there  was  his 
face  to  recall  to  Perry's  eye  the  prettier  face  and 
figure  of  his  sister,  and  when  the  tale  took  on  fresh 
interest,  it  was  as  if  the  listener  had  for  the  instant 
been  attracted  elsewhere  by  some  exquisite  illustra- 
tion. 

Thus  they  explored  the  remains  of  old  Fort  Shelby 
and  the  ruder  fortifications  known  as  Fort  Nonsense. 
With  canoe  rides  on  the  broad  river,  and  long  walks, 
they  visited  the  battlefields  of  Bloody  Run  and  Mon- 
guagon,  invaded  Canada  again,  took  Fort  Maiden, 
and  pressed  up  the  Thames  over  the  route  pursued  by 
General  Harrison  and  the  Kentuckians  who  killed 
Tecumseh  a  few  short  years  before.  As  history  it 
was  all  fresh  in  Perry  North's  mind.  Indeed,  he  felt 
himself  peculiarly  a  part  of  those  stirring  times  and 
bloody  scenes.  Had  not  his  father  been  killed  in  the 
famous  naval  battle  on  Lake  Erie?  And  was  not  he, 
the  son,  named  in  honor  of  the  gallant  hero  of  that 
fight? 

In  the  intervals  of  rest,  in  Perry's  room  at  the  top 
of  the  old  wooden  hotel,  were  given  the  lessons  in 
French.  Francois,  as  guest,  had  the  honor  of  the 
single  chair.  North,  sitting  in  his  open  window, 
would  question  him  after  some  such  manner  as,  What 
do  you  call  this?  and,  How  db  you  say  that?  And 
receiving  his  answer,  would  repeat  the  word  or  phrase 
over  and  over  till  he  had  acquired  the  accent  to  the 


1 6  The  Wolverine 

critical  satisfaction  of  his  teacher,  and  stored  up  in 
his  memory  several  hundred  of  the  most  common 
expressions. 

Then  came  payment  for  his  instruction,  when  his 
tutor  would  mount  the  bed  with  its  hay  mattress; 
and  so,  their  faces  on  a  level,  the  sparring  and  fisti- 
cuffs would  begin,  to  end  only  when  Francois  was 
exhausted  and  out  of  breath. 

It  was  Saturday  noon  when  Lyon  returned.  He 
welcomed  the  young  man  cordially,  expressed  regret 
for  his  absence  at  the  time  of  Perry's  coming,  and 
took  steps  at  once  to  secure  for  him  the  position  he 
sought.  Before  the  sun  went  down  that  afternoon, 
North  had  the  satisfaction  of  buttoning  his  coat  over 
an  official  document  which  made  him  a  sort  of  sur- 
veyor-general of  the  Territory. 

"Now  we've  started  you  in  a  business  way,"  said 
Lyon,  in  his  rather  slow,  altogether  kindly  tones; 
"the  next  thing  is  to  give  you  a  good  social  launching. 
The  Governor  entertains  this  evening  at  the  Mansion 
House  in  honor  of  the  new  Secretary,  and  I  have 
an  invitation  for  you  to  be  present.  It  is  quite  in- 
formal, but  will  furnish  an  opportunity  for  you  to 
meet  many  persons  of  influence." 

"You  know  I've  already  met  several  members  of 
the  Council,"  said  Perry,  glad  of  a  chance  to  show 
that  he  could  make  a  little  way  unaided. 

"Yes,"  returned  Lyon,  shifting  his  portly  form  in 
the  hard  chair  of  the  hotel  office;  "but  you  must  meet 
the  wives  and  daughters  of  these  men.  You  cannot 
afford  to  neglect  the  ladies,  Perry,  if  you  would  suc- 
ceed. Now  that  sounds  a  little  odd,  perhaps,  coming 


The  Wolverine  17 

from  a  bachelor;  but  I  know  it  to  be  true.  If  I  could 
be  a  whole  year  in  one  place,  I  think  I  could  make 
choice  of  a  woman  to  become  Mrs.  Lyon." 

He  was  smiling  now,  and  Perry  smiled  with  him, 
but  the  color  came  into  the  younger  man's  face 
almost  as  if  he  were  a  school  girl.  He  was  wondering 
whether  Marie  would  be  at  the  Mansion  House.  He 
realized  as  one  making  a  discovery,  that  persons  of 
influence  were  not  always  men;  for  how  easy,  and 
what  a  pleasure  it  would  be,  to  do  work  for  Marie 
Beaucoeur! 

"You  will  travel  far,"  Lyon  was  saying  when  Perry 
returned  to  the  florid-faced,  well-dressed  servant  of 
the  people,  "before  you  will  find  better  society,  more 
real  culture,  more  pretty  faces — than  right  here  in 
Detroit.  I  have  spent  a  season  in  Washington, 
where  you  will  find  a  greater  mass,  but  as  individuals 
go,  nothing  higher  than  here."  Then  his  smile  re- 
turned with  more  pleasantry.  "There  is  a  woman 
down  at  the  Capital  who  might  pull  a  heart-string 
or  two  here," — he  touched  his  own  expansive  chest, 
— "but  she  little  dreams  of  it,  I  fancy.  And  if  it  were 
not  she,  I  don't  know  who  else  might  claim  that  power, 
unless  it  be  Marie  Beaucoeur  of  Detroit." 

"Marie  Beaucoeur!"  exclaimed  North.  "Why,  I've 
met  her  too!"  he  added.  "It  is  her  brother  who  has 
acted  as  my  guide  the  last  three  or  four  days.  Will 
she Do  the  French,  as  a  rule,  attend  the  Gov- 
ernor's social  gatherings?"  Perry  had  talked  right 
through  the  Congressman's  surprise. 

"So  you  have  met  Marie!"  repeated  Lyon.  "Well, 
no;  as  a  rule,  the  older  generation  of  French  do  not 


1 8  The  Wolverine 

mingle  with  the  newcomers,  as  of  course  we  are — 
sort  of  interlopers;  and  you  will  find  they  regard  us 
with  some  such  feeling.  But  the  younger  genera- 
tion   I  think  I  can  promise  you  Marie  Beaucoeur 

will  be  there.  So  you  have  met  her.  Tell  me  about 
it." 

Perry  thereupon  gave  his  friend  an  account  of  the 
incident  on  the  banks  of  the  Savoyard. 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Lyon,  when  the  other  had  fin- 
ished. "She  is  a  clever  girl,  and  it  will  help  you  if 
you  can  claim  her  as  a  friend.  It  was  a  splendid  intro- 
duction— far  better  than  I  could  have  given  you." 
He  rose  at  this  point,  a  shadow  on  his  face.  "I  wish 
this  race  antagonism  might  be  stamped  out  alto- 
gether," he  continued,  impressively.  "It's  not  alone 
with  the  children.  It  crops  out  in  the  older  genera- 
tion when  you  least  expect  it.  North,  let  me  ask  you 
to  make  it  a  special  object  while  here,  to  promote  bet- 
ter relations  between  these  classes.  There  is  no  duty 
more  worthy  of  a  good  citizen." 

Perry  was  quick  with  a  promise,  for  the  matter 
seemed  to  embody  some  delightful  relations  with 
Marie  Beaucoeur.  He  thanked  Lyon  for  the  interest 
he  had  shown  in  his  affairs,  for  the  help  he  had  given 
him;  also,  for  the  Governor's  invitation,  which  he 
gratefully  accepted,  and  promised  to  be  in  readiness 
when  the  hour  should  arrive  to  set  out  for  the  Man- 
sion House. 


CHAPTER  III. 

PERRY  had  already  seen  the  Mansion  House  a 
number  of  times  from  the  outside.  As  a  struc- 
ture it  was  bound  to  attract  attention,  even  in 
a  town  so  well  supplied  with  interesting  and  curious 
sights.  Francois  had  told  him  it  was  built  by  the 
great  Cadillac,  more  than  a  hundred  years  before, 
and  his  listener  had  not  doubted  the  statement  in 
the  least,  for  age  was  stamped  on  every  board  and 
written  in  every  line  of  the  strange  edifice.  Sur- 
mounting the  large  one-story  building  was  a  high, 
sharp  roof  out  of  which,  near  the  center,  rose  a 
short  stone  chimney  of  enormous  thickness,  on  which 
the  roof  seemed  to  lean  as  it  sagged  toward  the  mid- 
dle. In  front  of  the  house  was  an  odd-looking  porch 
of  generous  proportions,  but  out  of  plumb,  with  a 
Chinese-like  top  shooting  above  the  eaves.  This 
feature  presented  the  appearance  of  having  been  flung 
at  the  main  structure  by  some  careless  giant  hand, 
and  the  resulting  shock  seemed  to  have  disarranged 
the  lines  generally. 

It  was  after  eight  o'clock  when  North  and  Con- 
gressman Lyon  set  out.      The  night  was  not  dark, 


20  The  Wolverine 

for  there  was  a  full  moon,  thinly  veiled,  giving  prom- 
ise of  rain,  which  was  sorely  needed.  Occasionally  a 
two-wheeled  cart  rumbled  by,  and  merry  laughter 
would  fill  the  night  air. 

A  circular  gravel  walk  led  up  to  the  brightly 
lighted  house,  and,  as  the  weather  was  warm,  the  large 
front  door  stood  open  with  an  air  of  ready  welcome 
for  all.  Suddenly,  Perry  found  himself  within  the 
reception  room,  shaking  hands  again  with  the  great 
man  of  the  Northwest,  who  smiled  in  recognition 
and  spoke  his  name  before  Lyon  prompted  him.  A 
gay  throng  filled  the  apartments,  and  the  hum  of 
many  voices  fell  like  a  continual  pleasant  droning 
on  the  ears.  Perry's  sweeping  glance  took  in  the  wall 
ornaments  of  this  first  room — Indian  likenesses,  pipes, 
snowshoes,  bows  and  arrows,  medals  and  a  hundred 
other  mementoes  of  the  American  forest  and  abori- 
ginal life. 

Then  they  passed  to  the  right  into  the  drawing- 
room.  There  was  little  formality  about  the  function; 
nearly  everybody  was  acquainted  with  everybody  else. 
A  group  at  the  farther  end  of  this  second  room,  how- 
ever, proved  the  one  exception.  Here,  the  guests  as 
they  moved  along  were  being  presented  to  the  new 
Secretary,  Stevens  Thompson  Mason;  and  with  him 
in  the  line  were  his  mother  and  sisters. 

Mason  impressed  the  beholder  at  once  with  his 
fine  personal  bearing1.  He  was  tall  and  handsome.  A 
bright,  beaming  eye  seemed  to  mirror  the  restless 
spirit  that  animated  his  being;  while  his  hair,  dark 
and  waving,  fell  about  a  brow,  marble-like  in  its 
patrician  fineness.  These  features,  in  spite  of  his 


The  Wolverine  21 

youth  gave  him  a  clear-cut  and  commanding  pres- 
ence. 

When  Perry  was  presented  to  the  new  Secretary  a 
picture  was  formed  worthy  of  a  Stuart  or  a  Peale. 
The  two  men,  in  form  and  size,  were  counterparts  of 
each  other.  But  North's  hair  was  of  a  singular  color; 
neither  yellow  nor  red,  it  yet  partook  of  both — per- 
haps a  pale  orange  would  best  describe  the  shade. 

"What  a  homely  man!"  the  beholder  invariably 
thought  on  first  seeing  him.  This  was  not  strange, 
for  an  orange-colored  head  moving  among  heads  of 
a  prevailing  black,  becomes  something  of  a  freak. 
But  having  called  him  "homely"  at  first  sight,  his 
critic  was  almost  certain,  six  months  later,  to  point 
him  out  to  some  stranger  as  "that  handsome  young 
fellow  with  light  hair;"  and  forthwith  he  would  fall 
into  an  argument  to  prove  the  correctness  of  his 
amended  opinion.  He  would  enumerate  other  points 
undeniably  good;  great,  earnest,  blue  eyes;  a  well- 
formed  chin;  a  straight  nose,  not  the  least  too  large 
or  too  small;  and  a  mouth,  every  line  of  which  was  a 
revelation  of  strength; — and  all  set  above  a  form 
that  was  perfect  in  its  athletic  proportions. 

Perry  shook  hands  with  Mason  with  a  quick  feel- 
ing of  admiration.  He  was  himself  ambitious,  and 
loved  power;  and  here  in  this  young  man — younger 
than  he — was  embodied  so  much  that  usually  takes 
years  and  hard  struggle  to  attain.  He  watched  him 
with  almost  envious  eyes  during  a  moment  of  ani- 
mated conversation  with  Lyon,  regarding  some 
Washington  friends;  and  then  Perry  and  the  Con- 
gressman passed  on  to  give  place  to  others. 


22  The  Wolverine 

By  this  time  the  rooms  were  filled.  From  some- 
where the  strident  sound  of  stringed  instruments 
came,  mingled  with  the  rhythmic  shuffle  of  feet,  which 
told  that  dancing  was  going  on  not  far  away.  Through 
an  open  window  people  could  be  seen  promenading 
up  and  down  the  long  porch,  or  moving  in  little 
groups  about  the  dimly-lighted  grounds.  Perry  was 
beginning  to  wonder  why  he  did  not  see  Marie 
Beaucoeur's  face  anywhere  in  the  throng,  when  her 
voice  sounded  at  his  very  elbow. 

"Bon  soir,  Monsieur  North/'  she  said,  mockingly 
addressing  him  in  French.  She  had  just  come  from 
shaking  hands  with  the  new  Secretary.  "Un  grand 
chevalier,  n'est-ce  pas?" 

Perry's  brow  gathered  in  a  frown  as  he  endeavored 
to  translate. 

"Ah!  I  fear  the  lessons  are  not  well  learned,"  she 
continued,  with  a  sad  shake  of  the  head. 

"You  are  too  quick  for  me,  Miss  Beaucoeur,"  he 
returned,  at  last  guessing  the  import  of  her  speech. 
"It  is  a  weighty  matter,  and  an  opinion  should  be 
given  only  after  due  deliberation.  Indeed,  he  is  a 
handsome  man,"  said  North,  with  a  glance  toward 
Mason. 

"Ah,  the  men  they  will  be  deliberate,"  sighed  Marie. 
"But  the  ladies  they  are  all  in  love  with  him  this 
moment.  Are  you  not  very  jealous,  Mr.  Lyon?" — 
turning  to  Perry's  companion. 

"I  shall  be  if  you  do  not  promise  me  the  first  waltz 
this  evening,"  answered  the  Congressman. 

"The  first?  Is  it  not  promised  to  Mr.  North?" 
And  she  put  her  finger  to  her  brow  with  pretty  per- 


The  Wolverine  23 

plexity,  as  if  memory  were  playing  her  a  trick.  With 
charming,  covert  glance  her  eyes  turned  quickly 
toward  Perry,  while  her  wonder  grew  at  his  con- 
tinued silence. 

"Was  it  a  promise  made  on  the  banks  of  the  Savo- 
yard?" asked  Lyon,  remembering  Perry's  story. 

But  now  Perry  was  ready  with  a  speech.  "It  would 
be  a  great  pleasure  to  dance  with  Miss  Beaucceur," 
he  said,  "if  one  were  every  whit  prepared.  But  my 
feet  are  more  ignorant  of  that  than  my  tongue  is  of 
French.  And  I  fear  I  have  disappointed  you  once, 
already." 

"Sly  fox!"  commented  Marie,  eyeing  him  while 
she  spoke  to  Lyon.  "It  is  an  excuse.  He  wishes  me 
to  give  him  lessons  also,  as  Frangois  does.  But 
how  think  you  he  would  pay?  I  do  not  care  for  the 
fight,  as  my  brother  does." 

As  she  spoke,  she  placed  her  hand  within  the  Con- 
gressman's arm,  and  permitted  him  to  lead  her  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  music. 

Left  alone,  Perry  withdrew  to  the  porch,  and  there 
presently  found  a  window  through  which  he  could 
watch  the  dancers.  He  was  not  in  the  best  of  spirits. 
It  was  evident  that  Marie  would  have  given  him  the 
first  dance,  had  it  been  possible  for  him  to  take  part 
in  the  gay  amusement,  though  he  had  not  asked  her 
for  it,  and  another  had.  Her  coquetry  pleased  and 
puzzled  him.  He  wondered  whether  Lyon  compre- 
hended her  words  and  action,  and  what  he  thought 
of  them.  Her  manner  through  the  whole  scene  set 
his  blood  to  tingling;  it  also  stirred  the  old  Puritan 


24  The  Wolverine 

within,  and  the  argument  that  ensued  between  his 
two  minds  put  him  in  bad  humor. 

He  had  been  taught  that  it  was  wrong  to  dance. 
Nay,  that  the  dance  was  positively  an  allurement  of 
the  Devil's  for  entrapping  souls  to  their  eternal 
destruction.  The  question  had  not  weighed  with  him 
personally  before;  but  now  suddenly  it  had  snatched 
from  his  lips  a  cup  which  he  felt  would  be  very  deli- 
cious to  quaff.  In  consequence  a  feeling  of  injury 
rankled  in  his  breast. 

How  long  he  stood  watching  that  gay  throng  he 
scarcely  realized.  But  dance  followed  dance,  and 
he  saw  Marie  whirled  about,  first  by  Lyon,  then  by 
Mason,  again  and  again,  as  the  evening  progressed. 
Finally,  the  argument  became  so  fierce  that  his  men- 
tal picture  dimmed  the  picture  before  his  eyes,  and 
he  lost  all  consciousness  of  time  and  place. 

"Ah!  here  he  is,"  were  the  words  which  called  him 
back  to  the  present.  "We  have  searched  for  you 
everywhere,"  said  Marie  in  her  sweet,  girlish  tones. 
"I  would  not  let  Mr.  Lyon  give  up  till  you  were  found. 
He  has  some  stupid  matter  to  talk  with  De  Tocque- 
ville  about  prisons  and  whipping  posts;  and  then  he 
will  carry  him  off  to  the  Governor's  den,  and  they 
will  spend  the  rest  of  the  night  conversing  on  the 
subject,  and  when  the  Territory  shall  be  a  State. 
Never  become  un  homme  d'etat,  Mr.  North,  unless 
you  wish  the  ladies  to  think  you  very  stupid.  You 
may  go  now,"  she  said  to  her  escort.  "Mr.  North 
will  take  care  of  me."  And  she  dismissed  him  with 
a  smile  and  a  final  "Merci,  monsieur  le  congress- 
man," that  robbed  her  manner  of  rudeness 


The  Wolverine  25 

"Ah!  now  I  can  breathe,"  she  sighed.  "It  was  so 
stupid  in  there.  Truly,  Mr.  North,  have  you  never 
danced ?" 

"I  never  have,"  was  Perry's  calm  answer,  as  he 
looked  into  her  face,  revealed  to  him  by  the  light 
from  the  window.  "But  you  are  quite  heated,  Miss 
Beaucceur.  You  will  take  cold,"  he  said,  in  quick 
apprehension. 

"Then  let  us  walk,"  she  returned.  "I  know  a  path 
— it  is  here — that  leads  down  to  the  river.  Ah!  the 
moon  is  it  not  fine?" 

She  took  his  arm,  and  they  moved  away  from  the 
house  and  the  music. 

Perry's  first  thought  was,  "This  is  better  than  a 
dance!"  Providence  had  not  been  so  cruel  to  him, 
after  all.  He  was  half-ashamed  of  his  earlier  rebel- 
lious spirit.  Indeed,  with  further  reflection,  he  seemed 
to  find  in  Marie's  last  act  Heaven's  quick  reward  for 
having  settled  in  his  own  mind  that  he  would  be  true 
to  the  teachings  of  his  ancestors,  and  not  be  led 
away  by  the  gaieties  of  the  world.  Of  course  these 
things  were  not  sin  to  the  pretty  creature  on  his  arm; 
that  was  to  be  charged  to  her  education;  she  could 
not  do  or  dream  anything  that  was  not  pure  and 
heavenly. 

"How  is  it,"  he  asked,  his  mind  fastening  on  the 
educational  feature,  "that  you  speak  English  per- 
fectly, while  your  brother's  words  are  so  broken?" 
He  could  not  make  her  speech  less. 

"Ah,  do  you  think  I  have  never  been  to  school? 
That  is  the  way  with  all  who  come  here  from  the 
East.  You  think  we  are  rough;  boors;  backwoods- 


26  The  Wolverine 

men  and  slatternly  women — all;  no  culture,  no  re- 
finement. It  is  not  true!  Has  not  Monsieur  De 
Tocqueville  expressed  his  surprise?  'So  like  my 
France — my  Paris!'  When  Francois  has  been  to 
school  he  will  speak  perfect  English.  It  is  our 
father's  wish." 

"You  misjudge  me,  Miss  Beaucoeur.  I  am  from 
the  East,  but  I  knew  there  were  cultured  people  in 
Detroit.  I  have  read  letters  of  the  Reverend  John 
Montieth's  in  the  New  York  Observer." 

"You  should  have  met  these  people  to-night,  in- 
stead of  hiding  yourself  away  out  of  doors,"  she  de- 
clared, warmly.  "Mr.  Trumbull  was  there  for  a  short 
time,  and  Mr.  Schoolcraft,  and  Mr.  Woodworth's 
brother,  and  young  Doctor  Houghton,  and  a  dozen 
others  I  might  name." 

"I  have  met  Mr.  Woodworth,"  said  Perry.  "I 
should  like  to  meet  Mr.  Trumbull.  I  have  read  his 
famous  poem,  M'Fingal." 

"Ah,  I  would  take  you  back  and  present  you  now. 
But  it  is  late,  and  he  goes  early  to  his  home.  He  is 
very,  very  old,  you  know." 

"Then  I  saw  him  talking  with  your  talented  young 
countryman,  De  Tocqueville?" 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  water's  edge. 

"Voila!"  she  cried,  interrupting  him.  "Is  not  the 
river  magnificent?  Ah!  the  narrow  path  of  gold! 
How  I  wish  I  were  a  fairy,  and  might  dance  away, 
'way  yonder  to  the  moon!" 

She  had  taken  a  step  beyond  North  toward  the 
river.  As  she  spoke,  he  reached  a  quick  hand  after 
her.  He  was  frightened  with  the  thought  that  she 


The  Wolverine  27 

might  deceive  herself  into  making  the  experiment; 
for  in  his  own  mind  he  began  to  doubt  her  reality. 

She  turned  to  him  quickly,  however,  placing  her 
hand  on  his  outstretched  arm.  "Why  have  you  never 
danced,  Mr.  North?  It  is  so  fine!  Come,  let  me 
give  you  a  lesson.  See;  here  the  bank  it  is  hard  and 
smooth.  First  you  must  stand  so;  with  your  feet  so/' 

She  drew  her  dainty  skirts  so  they  revealed  the 
whole  of  her  pretty  boots. 

"Now  step  this  way.  See — as  I  do.  Now  this  way. 
Good!  Try  that  again.  Ah — but  first  I  must  teach 
you  how  to  bow." 

She  came  at  him  with  both  hands,  as  if  he  were 
some  wooden  image  on  wheels  that  must  be  rolled 
into  position.  Perhaps  the  lack  of  grace  in  his  move- 
ments had  suggested  this.  To  North  there  was  some- 
thing hypnotic  in  her  commands  and  magnetic  touch, 
and  he  obeyed  all  as  one  in  a  dream. 

"Ah,  I  should  have  a  hat!  But  yours  is  not  here. 
Let  it  pass.  You  must  think  I  have  one — and  you 
one — and  do  as  I  do." 

She  moved  a  few  steps  away,  and  began  by  calmly 
raising  her  right  hand  with  a  perfect  roundness  in 
the  curve  and  motion  of  the  arm.  At  the  level  of  the 
head  she  seized  an  imaginary  hat-rim,  lightly,  slightly, 
with  about  half  the  length  of  her  fingers.  The 
imaginary  hat  was  slowly  lifted  and  slowly  carried 
out  into  the  air  to  the  fullest  length  of  the  gradually 
straightened  arm.  The  movement  was  calculated  to 
turn  the  hat  over  slowly,  so  that  it  described  a  com- 
plete semi-circle  on  its  road,  and  reached  the  extreme 
limit  of  its  distance  at  the  precise  instant  it  became 


28  The  Wolverine 

upside  down.  At  the  moment  the  hat  was  lifted  from 
her  head,  her  body  began  bending  forward,  continuing 
till  the  hat  had  reached  its  greatest  distance.  Then 
the  hat  came  slowly  sweeping  back,  and  with  its  re- 
turn her  figure  became  erect. 

"Now  you  do  that/'  she  commanded  sprightly,  and 
he  obeyed — but  not  just  to  her  satisfaction. 

"No,  no!  The  movement  it  is  too  rapid.  It  must 
be  so!"  And  she  repeated  the  action,  at  the  close 
calling  on  him  again  with  pretty  imperiousness: 
"Now  you!" 

Once  more  he  tried  to  satisfy  her  demands,  but 
Puritan  stiffness  was  not  equal  to  the  artistic  ideas  of 
la  belle  France. 

"Ciel!"  she  cried,  "the  joints  they  are  all  like  rusty 
hinges.  It  must  be  done  many  times  till  they  are 
bright  like  new.  Again.  Oh,  the  arm  it  is  too  much 
in  front.  It  must  be  more  to  the  side.  I  did  not  so! 
See — I  did  so.  Now  you!" 

But  his  attempt  only  drew  forth  laughter,  while 
she  tried  to  console  him  with  words  of  encouragement. 
"With  much  practice  monsieur  may  become  perfect," 
she  said.  "But  enough  of  that  now.  We  will  go  back 
to  the  dance." 

The  dance!  The  sinful  word  aroused  him  to  his 
danger. 

"This  is  witchery!"  he  cried.  "I  will  have  no  more 
of  it!" 

"Ah,"  she  said,  ruefully,  "if  monsieur  is  tired  of 
the  lessons  we  will  return  to  the  house."  But  she 
remained,  and  her  injured,  childlike  air  was  the  despair 
of  monsieur. 


The  Wolverine  29 

"I  don't  think  you  understand  me,"  said  Perry, 
sorely  disturbed.  He  would  be  true  to  his  old  tra- 
ditions, and  yet  retain  her  friendship.  "Such  things 
are  not  to  be  a  part  of  my  life.  I  must  work  and 
struggle.  I  must  be  in  the  woods,  away  from  so- 
ciety." 

"Ah,  but  while  you  are  here,"  she  protested 

"It  is  getting  late,"  he  interrupted,  and  looked  at 
the  moon  fiercely,  battling  with  the  tempter  within. 
"It  must  be  near  the  Sabbath."  And  he  took  a  step 
in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

"Ah,  yes,  we  will  return.    Mr.  North  wishes  it." 
Perry  knew  she  was  offended.     Her  "Mr.  North" 
in  contrast  with  the  previous  "Monsieur"  revealed  it. 
But  what  could  he  do? — though  his  very  soul  cried 
out  against  his  brutality. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

IT  was  far  toward  morning  before  Perry  got  to 
sleep.  He  tried  to  fix  his  thoughts,  first  on  his 
home,  and  then  on  the  work  that  lay  before  him, 
that  he  might  not  think  of  Marie  and  the  humiliating 
spectacle  he  had  made  of  himself  that  evening.  In 
spite  of  his  efforts,  however,  there  would  steal  before 
his  vision  the  figure  and  face  of  the  girl,  as  she  stood 
directing  him  on  the  river  bank,  and  he  would  feel 
again  the  thrill  of  her  hands  as  she  turned  him  about 
to  satisfy  her  whim.  Joy  came  also  as  he  recalled 
that  she  had  left  the  gay  revelers  and  sought  him 
out.  She  had  declared  the  dance  indoors  stupid,  and 
had  asked  to  walk  with  him.  And  what  a  walk  it 
was! 

Perry  sucked  the  air  in  with  an  ecstatic  sigh,  when 
a  knife  seemed  entering  his  side  as  he  realized  he 
had  lost  himself  again. 

"This  isn't  thinking  of  home!  This  isn't  forgetting 
her!"  he  hissed  in  the  dark,  and  turned  fiercely  in 
bed.  Once  more  he  corralled  his  straying  thoughts, 
and,  to  keep  them  from  forbidden  paths,  set  himself 
the  task  of  solving  problems  in  geometry,  following 


The  Wolverine  31 

this  with  numbers  of  three  figures  each,  which  he 
squared  on  a  mental  blackboard. 

At  last,  worn  out,  he  fell  into  a  sleep,  from  which 
he  seemed  speedily  to  awake,  having  dreamed  that 
he  and  Marie  were  overtaken  in  a  forest  by  a  terrible 
storm.  Even  awake  he  continued  to  hear  the  roar 
of  the  wind;  and,  springing  from  his  bed,  he  rushed 
to  the  window  in  time  to  see,  in  the  pale  light  of 
dawn,  a  troop  of  French  ponies  scurry  madly  through 
the  street,  directed  solely  by  some  wild  fancy  of  their 
own.  Perry  would  not  go  back  to  bed,  so  he  dressed 
and  wrote  for  a  time  on  the  letter  which  was  soon 
to  be  sent  home.  But  he  wrote  nothing  about  Marie. 

Later  in  the  morning  he  attended  services  at  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  and,  coming  away,  met  Gov- 
ernor Cass  in  the  streets.  They  walked  for  a  block, 
together,  and  fell  to  discussing  a  point  in  morals, 
when  the  great  man  asked  him  whether  he  had  read  a 
certain  new  author  on  the  subject;  and,  as  he  had 
not,  the  other  graciously  offered  to  lend  him  the 
book  from  his  library,  if  Perry  would  accompany  him 
to  the  house. 

The  young  man  kept  to  the  quiet  of  his  room  in 
the  hotel,  poring  over  the  volume  till  the  cool  of  the 
afternoon,  when  he  went  for  a  stroll  in  the  open  air. 
He  returned  thoroughly  scandalized  by  the  behavior 
of  the  French.  Out  on  the  Common  he  had  come 
upon  a  concourse  of  people  highly  excited  over  some 
horse-racing;  one  of  the  contestants  was  his  little 
friend,  Francois,  and  among  the  interested  spectators 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Marie. 

North  would  not  have  been  so  shocked  by  any- 


32  The  Wolverine 

thing  else  which  he  might  have  seen.  Marie  a  Sab- 
bath breaker!  He  had  no  thought  now  to  put  her 
out  of  mind;  rather  was  he  filled  with  a  burning  de- 
sire to  save  her  from  false  teachings,  to  lead  her 
into  a  Christian  life  after  the  type  of  his  sister  Laura's. 
It  would  have  been  some  consolation  to  him,  sud- 
denly awakened  to  proselyting,  had  he  known  that 
Marie  only  just  arrived  on  the  scene  when  he  dis- 
covered her;  and  that  she  had  come  to  call  her 
brother  home,  not  because  he  was  doing  wrong,  but 
because  it  was  supper-time.  She,  or  any  other  per- 
son, had  the  same  grounds  for  thinking  he  was  a 
Sabbath  breaker.  But  she  had  not  seen  him,  and  if 
she  had,  would  not  have  judged  him,  so,  after  all,  he 
was  not  far  wrong  on  the  point  he  considered  vital. 

Perry  had  many  romantic  dreams  of  how  he  was  to 
accomplish  this  new  and  creditable  object.  Naturally 
impulsive,  he  had  long  been  haunted  by  a  fear  that 
some  time  he  would  commit  an  irreparable  blunder, 
and  to  guard  against  this  he  had  schooled  himself  to 
deliberate  action.  In  the  matter  of  Marie's  conver- 
sion he  rightly  judged  that  success  could  be  won  only 
by  slow  and  patient  endeavor.  Meanwhile,  his  pro- 
fessional duties  required  immediate  attention,  and 
ten  days  passed  before  he  saw  the  French  beauty 
again. 

Detroit  was  now  expanding  in  every  direction,  and 
Perry's  first  work  as  a  surveyor  was  to  run  lines  which 
opened  up  streets  and  formed  building  lots  for  the 
people  flocking  thither  from  the  East.  He  knew  the 
French  were  opposed  to  having  their  farms  broken 
up  in  this  manner,  for  he  had  heard  the  subject  dis- 


The  Wolverine  33 

cussed  in  the  hotels,  and  had  appreciated  the  laugh- 
ter which  always  followed  an  exhibition  of  their  short- 
sightedness. The  very  thing  which  the  Yankee  would 
have  hailed  with  delight,  meaning  riches  and  power 
to  the  owner,  was  an  abomination  to  the  French,  who 
were  quite  content  with  their  simple  life.  But  the 
work  was  a  question  of  public  improvement;  a  thing 
which  so  naturally  followed  that  Perry  never  once 
thought  of  armed  opposition  in  performing  his  duties. 

He  and  his  assistant  were  working  in  the  middle 
of  a  fine  old  French  orchard,  marking  out  the  course 
which  Jefferson  Avenue  has  since  taken.  He  had 
just  got  his  level  in  position,  and  was  waiting  for  the 
target  to  be  placed,  when  a  great  hue  and  cry  rose 
off  to  the  right.  Turning  to  see  what  it  meant,  the 
young  surveyor  was  nonplussed  at  the  sight  of  a  war- 
like force  advancing  toward  him.  With  every  show 
of  hostile  intention  they  swooped  down  upon  him, — a 
trio  of  stalwart,  lank-faced  young  Frenchmen,  led  by 
a  middle-aged  man  of  commanding  appearance. 

Surely  there  was  some  mistake;  doubtless  they 
thought  he  was  there  to  steal  their  fruit.  He  would 
explain  to  them.  Calmly  he  awaited  their  approach. 
Of  course  they  would  not  shoot  him,  though  the  two 
with  guns  continually  threatened.  If  one  had  talked 
alone  he  might  have  understood  his  jargon;  however, 
it  was  plainly  evident  they  wished  him  begone.  And 
it  was  his  business  to  remain.  Stones  which  the  third 
in  the  ranks  commenced  to  throw  were  more  to  be 
feared  than  the  guns,  and  Perry  was  obliged  to  take 
shelter  behind  a  pear  tree.  Having  developed  some 


34  The  Wolverine 

evidence  of  fear  in  the  defense,  the  leader  of  the  attack- 
ing party  was  willing  to  parley. 

"Eet  would  give  me  mooch  sorrow  to  shoot 
monsieur,"  said  the  commanding  officer,  with  courtly 
manner  and  fine,  picturesque  accent,  while  he  beck- 
oned his  men  to  desist  "Will  monsieur  take  his  in- 
strumen'  and  go  'way?  Zen  'ere  be  no  trouble — 
nothing  to  make  one  sorrowful.  I  hope  monsieur 
will  comprehen'." 

"I  am  not  here  to  steal  your  fruit,"  returned  Perry 
from  behind  the  tree-trunk,  thus  making  it  evident 
that  the  nature  of  his  offense  was  not  understood. 

"Mon  Dieu!  eet  ees  not  me  fruit,"  explained  the 
old  man,  shaking  his  long,  white  hair.  He  looked 
more  like  some  admirable  picture  done  by  a  master 
hand,  than  an  object  to  be  feared.  He  was  clothed  in 
a  full-dress  suit  of  black,  with  white  cravat  and  roll- 
ing shirt-collar,  clean  and  immaculate  as  the  snow. 
Perry  could  not  help  feeling  the  charm  of  his  voice, 
his  rosy  cheeks,  his  fine  mouth  and  perfect  teeth;  and 
it  all  helped  to  rob  the  situation,  in  a  measure,  of  its 
annoyance. 

"If  it's  not  your  fruit,  what  is  it?"  demanded  the 
young  surveyor,  trying  in  vain  to  find  reason  in  their 
action. 

"Eet  ees  ze  road  I  will  not  have,"  returned  the 
courtly  Frenchman.  "Eet  will  ruin  me  trees.  Bime- 
by  you  come  again  an'  cut  'em  down;  I  canno'  suffer 
zat.  Ah,  eet  would  break  me  heart.  I  hope  monsieur 
will  perceive.  Ze  trees  zey  are  plant'  by  me  father's 
grandfather — ah,  so  long  ago  I  canno'  tell.  My  life 
eet  ees  wrap'  up  in  ze  trees;  I  will  defen'  zem  wit'  me 


The  Wolverine  35 

life.  I  hope  monsieur  comprehen'.  Ze  guns  zey  are 
load'.  Eet  ees  ver*  danger's  no'  to  go  'way  wit* 
mooch  promptment." 

"I  think  I  understand  you  now,"  answered  Perry. 
"And  I  will  not  go  away.  I  am  a  government  official; 
and  the  government  will  protect  me  in  the  discharge 
of  my  duties.  You  should  know  this.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  your  guns." 

"Monsieur  will  no'  go?"  he  questioned.  "Monsieur 
ees  a  ver5  brave  man.  But  zen  I  moos'  proceed.  I 
will  defen'  ze  trees  wit'  me  life." 

He  spoke  a  word  to  his  followers  in  French,  and 
they  promptly  surrounded  the  spot  where  Perry  had 
taken  refuge.  Then  at  a  second  command  they  rushed 
upon  him  from  three  directions.  It  was  worse  than 
useless  for  Perry  to  resist,  but  his  was  not  the  spirit 
to  give  up  tamely.  With  a  feeling  of  disgust,  he  saw, 
in  the  distance,  his  craven  assistant  take  to  his  heels 
in  the  direction  of  the  town,  while  he,  with  back  to 
the  tree,  awaited  the  assault. 

The  first  man  received  a  blow  that  was  a  surprise 
to  him,  for  he  at  once  measured  his  length  on  the 
ground.  Then  Perry's  arms  shot  out  to  the  right 
and  left,  and  the  two  others  met  fists  that  staggered 
them.  The  attack,  however,  was  immediately  re- 
newed, but  with  a  feint  that  tempted  the  young  sur- 
veyor from  the  friendly  tree  toward  where  his  first 
assailant  lay.  Before  Perry  comprehended  the  danger, 
his  legs  had  been  seized  and  pinioned  by  the  pros- 
trate man;  and  the  next  instant  four  men  were  rolling 
on  the  earth.  It  was  a  question  now  of  only  a  few 


36  The  Wolverine 

minutes  before  the  Frenchmen  had  their  prisoner 
bound  hand  and  foot,  and  utterly  at  their  mercy. 

Perry  was  filled  more  with  curiosity  than  fear,  as 
to  what  disposition  would  be  made  of  him.  His  cap- 
tors were  indulging  in  animated  conversation  while 
they  rested  from  the  struggle,  and  he  tried  to  gather 
the  substance  of  what  was  said  by  the  knowledge 
gained  from  Francis.  But  their  faces  and  gestures 
told  more  than  the  words  from  their  lips. 

They  seemed  to  be  jolly,  good-natured  fellows;  the 
one  whom  Perry  had  knocked  down  was  now  the  butt 
of  his  companions'  jokes.  There  was  no  anger  for 
their  prisoner;  the  two  who  had  suffered  least  were 
willing  to  share  their  fun  with  him, — if  he  rightly 
interpreted  their  actions.  And  when,  presently,  they 
came  and  took  him  up,  with  the  evident  intention  of 
carrying  him  to  the  house  in  the  distance,  their  man- 
ner was  both  gentlemanly  and  deferential. 

Perry  never  forgot  how  things  looked  as  he  took 
that  involuntary  journey.  At  one  side  walked  the 
courtly  old  Frenchman,  handsome,  grave,  and  digni- 
fied. Above  was  the  summer  sky,  its  deep  blue 
flecked  with  clouds;  then  all  blotted  out  by  massive 
green  boughs,  as  they  passed  under  some  ancient 
pear  tree.  Away  to  the  left  lay  the  town;  the  sun, 
low  over  his  feet,  shone  on  the  Capitol  off  at  one  side ; 
in  the  center  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  rested  on  the  five 
white  towers  of  Ste.  Anne's.  Not  till  they  made  a 
turn  near  the  house,  quaint,  old,  and  yellow — half 
trading-store,  half  dwelling — did  the  broad  sweep  of 
the  river  come  into  view,  with  an  occasional  sail 
hovering,  bird-like,  above  the  water. 


The  Wolverine  37 

They  carried  their  prisoner  to  a  low  room  on  the 
second  floor,  and  placed  him  on  a  rude  couch,  where, 
still  bound,  he  was  left  alone.  Through  a  small  dor- 
mer-window Perry  had  a  glimpse  of  the  sky,  the  dis- 
tant Canadian  shore,  and  a  narrow  band  of  blue  water. 
From  his  surroundings  he  easily  guessed  they  had 
imprisoned  him  in  a  sort  of  lumber-room,  which, 
when  the  house  was  crowded,  had  been  used  as  a 
sleeping  apartment. 

No  sooner  had  the  last  footstep  died  away  than  he 
began  thinking  of  escape.  He  soon  found,  however, 
that  the  cords  which  fettered  his  wrists  and  ankles 
had  been  fastened  by  a  master  hand,  and  were  not  to 
be  removed.  By  dint  of  much  wriggling  he  threw 
his  legs  off  the  couch,  and  got  himself  to  a  sitting  pos- 
ture. Then  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  by  a  series  of 
semi-circles  on  heel  and  toe,  made  his  way  to  the 
window.  Day  was  fast  giving  place  to  night;  but  in 
the  soft  twilight  he  saw,  if  his  hands  were  free,  he 
might  easily  raise  the  window,  slip  down  the  roof, 
thence  to  the  ground  was  but  a  few  feet. 

While  still  contemplating  the  prospect,  the  bolt  slid 
cautiously  in  the  door,  and  some  one  entered  the 
room,  though  he  had  heard  no  step  approaching. 
There  was  not  time  to  get  back  to  the  couch.  He 
merely  turned  to  see  who  his  visitor  might  be,  and, 
in  utter  astonishment,  cried  one  word — 

"Marie!" 

"Mon  Dieu!  c'est  Monsieur  North!  It  is  what  I 
feared — les  cheveux  d'or,"  said  mademoiselle,  re- 
peating the  words,  which,  below  stairs,  had  led  her 
to  suspect  who  was  her  father's  prisoner. 


38  The  Wolverine 

"The  golden-haired/'  however,  was  not  so  much 
frightened  by  all  that  had  previously  happened,  as 
now,  by  his  sudden  use  of  her  Christian  name. 

"I  am  so  sorry  for  monsieur/'  continued  Marie, 
and  her  troubled  countenance  made  Perry  forget  all 
his  wrongs.  "Monsieur  must  fly!  There  is  a  way — 
let  me  think."  Her  mind  worked  beyond  the  imme- 
diate object,  however.  "Monsieur  must  never,  never 
come  here  again.  Let  him  make  his  roads  through 
the  forest,  and  not  through  cultivated  fields.  This 
once  will  I  help  him  to  escape.  See,  it  is  nearly  dark. 
In  an  hour  raise  the  window  and  creep  down  the 
roof;  a  ladder  will  be  there.  Where  are  monsieur's 
hands? — my  wish  it  is  to  unbind  them." 

"No,  Miss  Beaucceur,  I  cannot  let  you,"  answered 
Perry,  with  an  effort  to  be  firm.  "If  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, this  is  your  father's  house,  and  I  am  his  pris- 
oner. I  cannot  let  you  take  my  part  against  your 
father.  It  would  bring  you  trouble.  And  no  harm 
can  come  to  me." 

Then  began  mademoiselle's  art.  For  reply  she 
said,  softly:  "A  moment  ago  it  was  'Marie';  now  it  is 
'Miss  Beaucceur/"  Her  tone  was  so  grieved  Perry 
feared  she  was  about  to  cry. 

"I  do  not  understand, — Marie,"  he  returned,  made 
bold  by  her  timidity. 

"Monsieur  should  understand.  It  is  not  French 
that  I  speak.  If  he  will  turn  about  I  will  untie  the 
hands,  and  then  he  may  loose  his  feet.  Is  it  not  good 
English?" 

"Perfect.     But  what  will  you  say  to  your  father?" 


The  Wolverine  39 

"I  do  not  tell  tales  on  any  one.  Does  monsieur 
think  I  will  begin  on  myself  ?" 

"There  will  be  questions  asked." 

"I  shall  not  hear/' 

"Perhaps  you  will  not  be  able  to  avoid  it." 

"One  can  look  ignorant  and  not  understand." 

"That  would  be  acting  a  lie;  and  I  cannot  let  you 
do  that  for  me,"  he  said,  severely. 

"Monsieur  is  very,  very  good,"  she  returned,  de- 
murely. 

For  a  space  there  was  silence.  Then  Perry  ven- 
tured, stammeringly:  "Is  not — mademoiselle — good, 
also?" 

She  started,  pleased  with  his  use  of  the  French 
word. 

"What  does  monsieur  think?"  she  asked,  with  timid 
insinuation. 

"I  saw  you  watching  a  horse-race,  on  a  Sunday, 
not  long  ago.  Was  not  that  very,  very  wrong?" 

"I  do  not  remember,"  she  answered,  disappointed 
and  dropping  her  head  in  thought.  "The  horse-race 
it  does  not  interest  me  much.  If  monsieur  had  said 
he  saw  Francois " 

"Francois  was  riding  one  of  the  ponies — was  one 
of  the  contestants." 

Her  reverie  held  her  still.  "And  monsieur  thinks  I 
am  very,  very  naughty,"  she  mused,  sadly.  "Father 
Richard  does  not  think  me  very,  very  naughty. 
Father  Richard  says  I  am  a  good  child." 

In  his  heart  Perry  wanted  to  bless  Father  Richard, 
but  his  reason  told  him  that  he  ought  rather  to  con- 
demn the  Priest  severely.  Was  he  not  a  servant  of 


4°  The  Wolverine 

that  source  whence  came  all  her  false  teachings?  But 
while  he  searched  for  suitable  words,  Marie  burst 
from  her  reverie  with  fresh  determination  to  perform 
the  errand  which  had  brought  her  thither. 

"But  we  waste  time,"  she  said,  impatiently.  "Mon- 
sieur will  let  me  free  his  hands  now?"  she  pleaded. 
"Because  I  ask  it — because  it  will  please  me.  Mon- 
sieur will  give  me  this  pleasure?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  it?"  he  questioned,  rinding  it 
hard  to  refuse,  yet  feeling  that  to  accept  her  assist- 
ance would  be  almost  cowardly. 

"Ciel!  why  do  I  ask  it?"  she  repeated,  to  gain  time 
to  plan  a  new  campaign.  And  after  a  moment:  "Let 
monsieur  answer  his  own  question.  He  has  truly 
said  no  harm  can  come  to  him  here.  But  what 
of  my  father  who  has  made  monsieur  a  pris- 
oner? What  will  they  say  at  the  Capitol?  What  will 
monsieur  le  gouverneur  do  when  he  finds  his  sur- 
veyor officer  does  not  return?  What  of  my  father 
then?  If  I  help  monsieur  to  escape,  will  he  not  be  a 
friend  and  forgive  injury?  My  heart  tells  me  monsieur 
is  good  and  kind." 

"Since  you  put  it  that  way,"  Perry  said;  and  turn- 
ing about,  in  a  moment  his  hands  were  free.  "Thank 
you." 

"Now  I  will  go.  Monsieur  can  unbind  his  feet. 
I  shall  not  forget  the  ladder;  and  monsieur  will  not 
forget  to  be  kind." 

And  with  that  she  slipped  noiselessly  away. 

Their  plan  worked  without  a  flaw,  and  in  less  than 
an  hour  Perry  was  in  his  own  room  at  the  hotel. 


CHAPTER   V. 

PERRY'S  little  adventure  by  no  means  put  a 
stop  to  the  extension  of  Jefferson  Avenue. 
But  previous  to  resuming  work  there,  a  hear- 
ing was  had  before  Governor  Cass.  Thanks  to  the 
excited  story  which  the  assistant  spread,  the  affair 
had  come  to  the  Governor's  ears  before  Perry  himself 
carried  it  thither.  Remembering  his  promise  to 
Marie,  he  reported  as  little  of  the  matter  as  possible, 
and  only  asked  that  it  be  made  plain  that  further 
interference  would  not  be  tolerated.  Perry's  attitude 
pleased  the  Governor,  as  it  did  Mr.  Lyon,  who  was 
present  at  the  interview. 

Father  Richard  was  there  also,  come  in  the  interests 
of  the  offending  Frenchman.  Perry  had  heard  a  great 
deal  of  this  Priest,  and  all  of  a  favorable  nature.  Tall, 
sepulchral,  clad  in  coarse,  cheap  cloth,  cut  after  the 
order  of  the  Sulpician  monks,  Father  Richard  was  a 
striking  figure;  indeed,  a  man  of  rare  ability.  Born 
and  educated  in  France,  in  his  early  manhood  he  had 
been  sent  to  this  country  by  the  Superior  General 
of  his  order.  For  a  time  he  served  as  a  missionary 
in  Illinois,  but  was  soon  advanced  to  the  more  im- 


42  The  Wolverine 

portant  field  at  Detroit,  where  he  had  served  a  third 
of  a  century. 

While  waiting  for  Beaucoeur,  the  Priest,  in  reply 
to  questions,  told  Governor  Cass  of  the  first  news- 
paper published  west  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains, 
and  of  the  difficulties  he  had  had  to  surmount  in 
moving  his  press  from  Baltimore  to  Detroit.  Father 
Richard  had  the  same  French  accent  that  was  be- 
coming so  familiar  to  Perry's  ears,  but  his  words  were 
all  well  chosen  and  fell  into  perfect  English  sen- 
tences. His  manner  showed  him  to  be  courteous  and 
affable,  with  innate  simplicity,  to  which  was  added 
the  strength  of  unknown  forces  held  in  reserve. 
Perry's  admiration  was  appealed  to  at  once.  This 
man  had  sat  in  Congress  with  Clay  and  Webster 
and  Calhoun;  had  battled  with  primeval  forces,  and 
won  golden  victories.  Although  Puritan  blood 
strongly  prejudiced  Perry's  mind  against  anything 
bearing  the  stamp  of  Rome,  he  felt  that  it  was  well 
to  know  this  Priest,  who  was  to  be  his  arch  enemy 
in  the  campaign  for  Marie's  soul;  and  he  watched 
the  man  with  all  the  eyes  he  had,  calculating  the 
chances  when  he  should  cross  swords  with  him. 

At  last  Beaucoeur  arrived,  and  the  real  work  of  the 
meeting  was  begun.  Much  patient  effort  was  put 
forth  to  convince  the  courteous  Frenchman  that  he 
stood  in  his  own  light.  Without  threatening  to  use 
force — which  was  very  distasteful  to  the  authorities 
— everything  else  was  done  to  persuade  him  to  yield 
gracefully,  and  in  the  end,  backed  by  the  wise  coun- 
sels of  the  Priest,  their  arguments  won. 

During  the  conference  the  cordial  relation  which 


The  Wolverine  43 

all  wished  to  obtain  between  the  two  races  was  dwelt 
upon  at  great  length.  The  friendship  that  had  ex- 
isted between  Washington  and  Lafayette  was  offered 
as  an  example  of  what  should  be.  Cass  spoke  grate- 
fully of  the  assistance  this  country  had  received  from 
the  Marquis's  hands;  and  Lyon  finished  by  telling  of 
a  fine  portrait  of  the  French  nobleman  which  had 
just  been  presented  to  Congress. 

"It  is  my  hope,"  he  said  as  they  rose,  an  amicable 
understanding  having  been  reached,  "to  persuade  the 
artist  who  painted  this  work  to  make  a  second  portrait 
exactly  like  the  original;  and  if  success  crowns  my 
efforts,  I  shall  present  the  painting  to  Michigan,  trust- 
ing that  it  will  grace  the  walls  of  her  Capitol,  there  to 
be  a  silent  but  potent  monitor  of  such  relations  as 
should  exist  between  her  citizens." 

With  this  sentiment  the  conference  broke  up. 

"I  say,  North,"  said  Major  Hadley,  as  they  came 
from  the  Capitol,  "you  ought  to  be  with  us  in  the 
Brady  Guards.  Let  me  propose  your  name  at  our 
meeting  to-night." 

"What's  the  use?"  returned  Perry.  "My  work  will 
take  me  away  from  the  city  so  much  I  shall  have  no 
time  to  drill  with  you.  Just  as  much  obliged  though." 

"But  you'll  be  with  us  practically  all  the  winter," 
argued  the  other.  "After  you've  obtained  your  field- 
notes,  there'll  be  your  office  work,  which  you'll  do 
here;  will  you  not?" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Perry,  evidently  considering  his 
friend's  proposal. 

"By  George,"  cried  the  Major,  admiration  dominat- 
ing his  tones, — "we  want  another  just  such  as  you  in 


44  The  Wolverine 

the  Guards.  And  I  promised  myself  this  pleasure  as 
soon  as  I  heard  the  story  of  your  encounter  with 
the  Beaucoeurs,  and  subsequent  escape.  It  was  fine 
of  you  to  keep  the  best  part  of  the  adventure  dark;" 
and  the  speaker  laughed  as  he  enjoyed  his  fancied 
advantage.  "But  I  can't  let  you  imagine  you've 
pulled  the  wool  over  all  of  us  that  way.  Why,  the 
Governor  knows  all  about  it,  and  so  does  Lyon!" 

"I  don't  know  who  could  have  told  them,"  said 
Perry,  suffering  because  of  some  annoyance  which 
might  be  brought  to  Marie,  and  for  which  he  blamed 
himself. 

"Why,  the  Beaucoeurs  themselves.  They're  not 
bad  fellows.  Antoine  is  in  the  Guards.  He  said  you 
were  bound,  hand  and  foot,  after  the  most  approved 
manner  of  the  Ottawas.  I  tell  you,  these  Frenchmen 
know  all  those  Indian  tricks.  It  is  only  a  man  of  the 
first  water  who  could  slip  those  cords,  and  take  him- 
self off  as  though  he  had  vanished  in  thin  air.  They're 
a  superstitious  lot,  these  French,  and  are  ready  to 
believe  there's  some  witchery  connected  with  the 
way  you  escaped  them." 

Perry  was  greatly  relieved  to  find  his  secret  was 
still  inviolate;  and  he  laughed  now  with  real  pleasure. 

"Well,  I  vote  it  witchery  too,"  he  declared,  having 
the  best  of  the  joke  after  all. 

"Come,  tell  me  all  about  it,"  begged  Hadley.  They 
were  passing  through  the  Market,  deserted  at  that 
hour,  and  but  a  few  steps  farther  their  ways  would 
separate. 

"No,  no,"  returned  North,  assuming  more  modesty 
than  he  really  possessed.  "You've  heard  the  story 


The  Wolverine  45 

from  lips  that  better  grace  it  than  mine.  Let  it  go 
at  that/' 

"Well;  you  will  permit  me  to  hand  your  name  in  to 
the  Guards?" 

"What's  that?"  called  a  voice  from  behind,  and 
turning,  they  saw  that  Lyon  and  the  Governor  had 
overtaken  them. 

"I'm  trying  to  persuade  North  to  join  the  Bradies," 
explained  the  Major. 

"Well,  I  wish  you  success,"  returned  Lyon.  "It 
will  be  a  good  thing  for  you,  Perry,"  he  added  with 
approval. 

"And  incidentally  I've  convinced  him  that  he  can't 
kill  a  good  story  by  being  over-modest,"  continued 
Hadley,  in  happy  spirits.  "Murder  will  out.  What 
a  set  of  ninnies  he  must  have  thought  us,  all  through 
our  recent  meeting!" 

"Truly,  I  want  to  congratulate  you,  Mr.  North," 
said  the  Governor,  beaming  upon  the  young  sur- 
veyor. "Your  conduct  in  this  affair  meets  my  entire 
approval.  Mr.  Lyon  and  I  feel  that  the  Territory, 
moreover,  is  to  be  congratulated  on  having  an  officer 
who  is  willing  to  subordinate  his  personal  feelings  to 
the  public  good.  A  revengeful  man  would  have 
made  us  no  end  of  trouble." 

"Thank  you,  Governor,"  said  Perry. 

Cass  questioned  him  then  about  a  book  from  his 
library,  and  advised  in  regard  to  another  by  Richard 
Whatley  which  would  supplement  the  volume  he  had. 
Hadley  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  without  having 
obtained  a  definite  answer  to  his  question  when  the 
Congressman  helped  him  out. 


46  The  Wolverine 

"Send  in  Mr.  North's  name,  by  all  means,  Major 
Hadley;  I'll  answer  for  his  consent,"  said  Lyon;  and 
as  Perry  made  no  objection,  the  Major  considered 
himself  duly  authorized. 

"These  French  are  just  like  children,"  commented 
Lyon,  as  he  and  Perry  turned  in  the  direction  of  their 
hotel.  "They  know  nothing  of  self-government,  and 
seem  to  have  little  desire  to  learn.  But  they  will 
obey  a  master,  their  father,  or  a  despotic  sovereign, 
without  a  question.  Now,  Beaucceur,  as  you  saw, 
was  as  tractable  as  a  lamb  before  the  Governor.  He 
is  really  a  very  brave  man,  and  something  of  a  patriot. 
He  fought  with  Cass  at  Tarontee,  and  proved  him- 
self very  gallant." 

"He  impresses  me  very  favorably,"  declared  Perry. 
"He  must  be  quite  a  character,  and  one  that  would 
easily  win  your  affections,  I  should  judge." 

"Indeed,  he  is  all  that.  You  know  he  is  commonly 
called  L'Abbe;  and  I  think  it  is  love  and  veneration, 
as  much  as  anything  else,  which  has  fastened  the  title 
on  him.  His  attack  on  you  was  only  a  childish  act 
of  insubordination.  It  was  not  the  real  man." 

"I  think  I  must  have  seen  that,"  said  Perry,  "for 
I  never  felt  the  least  fear  of  harm  any  of  the  time  I 
was  in  his  hands." 

"He  is  going  to  be  as  rich  as  Crcesus  some  day, 
and  that  almost  against  his  will,"  continued  Lyon. 
"He  owns  a  score  of  farms  in  the  county;  and  even 
now  you  can  hardly  turn  to  the  right  or  left  in  town, 
without  running  over  Beaucoeur  lots,  seeing  Beau- 
coeur  houses,  or  meeting  Beaucceur  tenants.  While 
they  care  little  for  wealth,  these  French  are  all,  never- 


The  Wolverine  47 

theless,  a  thrifty,  frugal  lot,  and  form  a  fine  portion 
of  our  growing  Territory." 

And  with  that,  the  Congressman's  talk  drifted  into 
politics. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

PERRY  had  never  had  such  advantages  for  read- 
ing and  study  as  now  came  within  his  reach. 
Practically  everything  in  the  Governor's  fine 
library  was  his  to  make  use  of  if  he  chose;  and  he 
was  not  one  to  neglect  such  an  opportunity.  History 
and  biography  came  first  to  his  taste,  but  there  were 
signs  of  a  growing  interest  in  science,  which,  ere  long, 
was  to  lead  him  to  the  theological  essayists  and  writers 
on  religious  controversial  subjects.  Occasionally  he 
read  a  novel. 

He  was  deep  in  Cooper's  Spy  one  evening,  after  a 
day  spent  closely  indoors,  computing  and  charting  his 
recent  field-notes,  when  a  sudden  want  of  exercise 
forced  itself  on  his  consciousness.  Laying  the  book 
aside,  he  determined  to  go  for  a  walk  along  the  river 
bank. 

There  was  a  fine  moon  shining,  and  he  stood  for 
a  few  minutes  on  Barthelet's  wharf,  watching  the 
water  break  into  golden  ripples  along  the  path  which 
led  away  from  his  feet.  He  had  been  in  Detroit  but 
five  weeks,  yet  it  seemed  like  a  much  longer  time 
since  he  had  last  seen  that  path  on  the  river,  when, 


The  Wolverine  49 

in  point  of  fact,  it  was  even  less.  Just  such  another 
night,  Marie  and  he  had  stood  on  the  bank,  a  little 
farther  down  the  stream,  and  looked  upon  the  same 
picture,  and  she  had  expressed  a  wish  to  dance  away 
on  that  yellow,  treacherous  band  of  light.  What  a 
mysterious  creature  she  was!  One  moment,  as 
simple  as  a  single  line ;  again,  as  complex  as  the  whole 
of  calculus  itself.  In  how  many  moods  had  he  seen 
her!  varying  all  the  way  from  that  of  a  little  child  un- 
conscious of  itself,  to  the  queen,  sensible  of  all  that 
makes  her  regal,  and  jealously  demanding  her  every 
due. 

North  had  turned  about  and  was  looking  up  the 
river,  where,  dimly  visible  under  the  overpowering 
moon,  a  light  burned  in  the  Beaucoeur  home.  Three 
nights  ago  he  had  met  Marie  at  some  public  func- 
tion of  a  charitable  nature,  given  in  Fireman's  Hall, 
and  there  she  had  thanked  him  for  the  consideration 
he  had  shown  her  family  in  reporting  his  recent  mis- 
adventure. Perry  was  disappointed  by  the  coldness 
and  formality  with  which  this  had  been  done.  Except- 
ing those  few  polite  words,  he  had  not  spoken  to  her 
alone  since  being  a  prisoner  in  her  father's  house. 

However,  it  was  foolish  to  feel  displeasure  at  her 
treatment.  He  meant  to  know  her  only  to  reclaim 
her  from  sinful  error — if  Providence  should  grant  him 
so  great  a  privilege.  Was  it  not  the  wish  for  her  sal- 
vation that  caused  him  to  think  of  her  now,  and  led 
him  toward  that  light  far  up  the  river?  The  question 
was  still  in  mind  when  he  paused  under  the  great  elm 
that  bent  out  over  the  water  near  the  Beaucoeur  home. 
Her  conversion  was  a  thing  which  could  not  be 


50  The  Wolverine 

pressed — he  had  already  reasoned  that  out.  She 
knew  what  he  thought  of  the  horse-racing.  Yes,  he 
had  made  a  good  beginning. 

The  door  of  the  house  opened,  and  some  one  came 
out  into  the  night.  Though  only  a  hundred  yards 
away,  Perry  was  off  the  road,  and  had  no  fear  of  dis- 
covery. He  had  not  seen  the  direction  the  person 
had  taken.  Suddenly  an  object  appeared  just  beyond 
a  clump  of  hazel  at  his  right,  and  he  recognized 
Marie's  form — all  too  late  for  him  to  escape  without 
frightening  her. 

"Marie." 

He  spoke  to  disclose  himself  as  she  came  directly 
toward  the  tree  against  which  he  was  resting. 

"Monsieur!"  she  cried,  in  pretty  alarm.  "What  is 
monsieur  doing  here?"  she  asked,  curiosity  rising 
above  her  emotion. 

"It  is  such  a  fine  night.  And  I've  been  shut  in  all 
day,"  he  explained.  "I  thought  I  would  walk  out." 

"But  monsieur  was  standing,"  she  argued. 

"I  had  stopped  for  a  moment,"  he  returned,  an- 
noyed by  what  she  seemed  to  imply.  "I  will  continue 
now.  I  hope  I  did  not  frighten  you."  He  waited 
only  for  her  reply. 

"Monsieur  does  not  wish  me  to  tell  a  lie.  I  was 
terribly  frightened,"  she  answered  gravely,  while  she 
put  her  hand  to  her  side. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said.  "I  saw  you  leave  the  house 
just  now,  but  I  did  not  recognize  you  till  you  were 
upon  me.  If  I  had  known  you  were  coming  here  I 
should  have  departed  at  once.  Good  night." 

"Won't   monsieur  please    wait   and    unfasten   the 


The  Wolverine  51 

canoe  for  me?  Sometimes  it  is  tied  very,  very  se- 
curely. Monsieur  is  so  clever  at  untying  bands — 
every  one  says." 

Perry  felt  in  her  humor  a  thrust  at  him.  Was  he 
not  acting  a  lie  in  regard  to  his  escape  from  her  house? 
He  made  no  immediate  answer  to  her  words,  but 
silently  chafed  over  the  equivocal  position  in  which 
he  had  placed  himself.  He  perceived  for  the  first 
time  that  a  canoe  lay  upon  the  water's  edge,  fastened 
to  the  roots  of  the  very  tree  against  which  he  had 
been  leaning. 

"You  are  not  going  out  on  the  river?  To-night! 
alone!"  In  the  midst  of  his  astonishment  he  com- 
plied with  her  request. 

"Ah,  yes,  alone — unless  monsieur  is  kind  enough 
to  wish  to  go  with  me?" 

"I  will  go,"  he  replied,  slowly,  doubtfully. 

"Ah,  no — it  is  not  necessary,"  she  returned,  coldly. 

"Then  I  wish  to  go,"  he  declared  boldly,  with  im- 
patience. 

"Monsieur  is  very  stupid!" 

Not  altogether  pleased  with  himself,  Perry  pushed 
the  canoe  from  shore,  and  paddled  into  the  broad 
stream. 

"And  now  which  way?"  he  asked,  with  conscious 
resignation. 

"Eh  bien;  straight  across  to  the  Canada  shore. 
And  monsieur  will  do  well  to  head  toward  the  island, 
for  the  current  it  will  carry  him  down-stream.  Mon- 
sieur handles  the  paddle  like  an  Ottawa." 

This  compliment  put  Perry  in  good  humor.  In 
truth,  Marie  had  watched  his  first  efforts  with  some 


52  The  Wolverine 

misgivings.  But  now  she  settled  in  the  bottom  of 
the  canoe  with  every  assurance  that  all  was  well. 

"I  told  you  once  I  was  no  greenhorn,  if  I  am  from 
the  East,"  replied  North,  as  he  plied  the  paddle. 

"If  I  were  to  fall  into  the  water,  think  monsieur  he 
could  rescue  me?" 

"Do  not  put  me  to  the  test,"  Perry  answered,  with 
almost  a  command  in  his  tones. 

"Ah,  monsieur  cannot  swim,"  she  retorted. 

He  dared  not  tell  her  how  much  at  home  he  was 
in  the  water,  lest  the  caprice  to  try  him  might  seize 
her.  But  his  conscience,  or  some  wilful  imp,  pres- 
ently suggested  that  if  he  kept  silence,  was  it  not 
the  same  as  acting  a  lie?  And  when  Perry's  con- 
science pointed  a  way,  he  made  strenuous  efforts  to 
walk  therein. 

"I  could  swim  twice  across  this  river,"  he  said, 
calmly,  and  withdrew  the  paddle  from  the  water  to 
be  ready  for  action. 

"Monsieur  is  boastful,"  she  commented  with  dis- 
dain, wherewith  Perry  resumed  paddling  furiously. 

Silence  followed  for  a  time,  and  heated  blood  grew 
cool.  Marie  turned  about  to  search  the  Canadian 
shore,  dimly  revealed  by  the  moon.  The  bow  of  the 
canoe  crooned  a  soft,  sibilant  strain  to  the  regular 
pish,  pish,  of  the  paddle.  The  river,  dark  and  mys- 
terious, yet  bore  them  with  a  tender  embrace,  its  vast 
depths  seeming  a  fathomless  store  of  peace  and  con- 
tentment. 

"Does  monsieur  see  yonder  feeble  light?"  Marie 
questioned,  presently.  "The  landing-place  it  is  there." 


The  Wolverine  53 

As  they  stepped  ashore,  Perry  discovered  a  heavily- 
filled  basket  in  the  forward  end  of  the  canoe. 

"Monsieur  will  please  fetch  it,"  Marie  said,  and 
led  the  way  along  a  path  which  shortly  brought  them 
through  the  forest  to  a  hut  rudely  made  of  logs.  The 
feeble  light  which  they  had  seen  on  the  river  shone 
from  a  window  here.  Marie  pulled  the  latch-string 
and  entered  without  knocking. 

"Did  you  think,  grand'mere,  that  I  was  not  com- 
ing?" questioned  mademoiselle,  going  up  to  an  aged 
and  wrinkled  dame,  kissing  her  on  the  cheek.  Marie 
spoke  in  French,  but  the  happy  ring  in  her  voice 
was  intelligible  to  Perry.  "Pere  Richard  and  Etienne 
Baddeau  came  in,  and  I  could  not  get  away  sooner. 
But  I  have  brought  you  a  lot  of  goodies — and  a  visi- 
tor." And  she  turned  to  present  North.  "Monsieur 
must  speak  in  French.  She  does  not  understand  the 
English." 

"Bon  soir,  madame,"  said  Perry;  and  unconsciously 
he  went  through  one  of  the  lessons  which  Marie  had 
given  him  in  the  art  of  bowing. 

"Ah,  monsieur  is  improving,"  said  Marie,  smiling 
sweetly  on  him. 

The  old  dame  rattled  off  at  great  length,  all  of 
which  Marie  had  to  translate  to  Perry.  It  was  a 
considerable  disappointment  to  grand'mere,  learning 
that  she  could  not  converse  with  the  gentleman  with- 
out an  interpreter.  Nevertheless,  she  received  him 
graciously  for  mademoiselle's  sake. 

"Ah,  Marie,  thou  hast  another  sweetheart,"  said 
grand'mere,  behind  her  hand,  unmindful  that  Perry 
could  not  understand. 


54  The  Wolverine 

"Oh,  no,  grand'mere,  he  is  not,"  returned  mademoi- 
selle, with  a  blush  and  a  pretty  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"But  he  would  like  to  be,"  the  old  dame  affirmed. 
"Ah!  once  I  was  young,  too."  And  she  shook  her 
bony  finger  at  the  girl,  and  revealed  her  toothless 
gums  in  an  effort  to  laugh. 

Marie  joined  her  gaily.  "Between  you  and  me, 
grand'mere,  he  doesn't  know  what  he  would  like." 

"Ah,  he  will  find  out!  He  will  find  out!  Les 
cheveux  d'or — Franqois  has  told  me  about  him." 

"Ah,  yes — les  cheveux  d'or,"  repeated  Marie, 
watching  Perry,  and  rightly  guessing  he  did  not  un- 
derstand a  word.  "She  says  I  may  fetch  you  again, 
monsieur,"  Marie  said  to  Perry,  without  the  least 
scruple.  "Will  you  come?" 

"I  shall  be  very  happy  to  come  again,"  answered 
Perry. 

And  then  to  grand'mere  she  said :  "Monsieur  would 
like  to  come  again.  He  thinks  you  are  very  clever, 
and  quite  a  demoiselle.  Monsieur  is  very  gallant." 
This  unconscionable  speech  brought  forth  a  flood  of 
words  from  grand'mere,  which  Perry  took  as  expres- 
sions of  pleasure  at  his  acceptance. 

Bowing  to  the  ancient  crone,  he  murmured: 
"Merci,  madame." 

Marie  began  flying  hither  and  thither  about  the 
room.  "Now  we  will  have  the  feast,  grand'mere," 
she  said.  "You  sit  still  and  I  will  make  everything 
ready.  I  know  where  the  cloth  is  kept;  and  we  will 
have  tea."  In  English  she  addressed  Perry.  "Will 
monsieur  be  so  kind  as  to  build  the  fire?  Just  a  wee, 
petit  fire,  to  boil  the  kettle."  And  she  motioned  him 


The  Wolverine  55 

toward  the  great,  open  fireplace  at  one  end  of  the 
single  room. 

North  obeyed,  guessing  from  her  movements  what 
were  her  intentions.  Soon  he  had  uncovered  the 
coals,  and,  with  a  few  pine  knots,  built  a  quick  fire. 
The  blaze  added  a  cheerful  light  to  the  room  which 
hitherto  had  been  shrouded  in  blackness,  save  where 
the  candle  burned  before  the  window.  This  task  done, 
Marie  sent  him  to  the  river  for  water,  and  afterward 
into  the  forest  to  replenish  grand'mere's  little  stock 
of  fuel,  which  they  were  making  use  of.  When  all 
was  ready,  the  girl's  ringing  notes  called  him  to  the 
feast. 

Grand'mere  had  but  one  chair  and  two  stools — 
just  enough  for  all,  Marie  declared  as  a  happy  coinci- 
dence. The  stools  she  placed  at  opposite  ends  of  the 
table,  which  was  rudely  built  out  from  the  bare,  clay- 
chinked  wall.  Then  bidding  Perry  to  escort  their 
hostess,  she  stood  in  readiness  to  bring  up  the  chair 
which  grand'mere  occupied.  In  a  moment  they  were 
seated,  Perry  and  Marie  at  the  ends,  the  old  dame 
between.  The  candle,  elevated  by  a  block  of  wood 
near  the  wall,  lighted  up  the  three  faces,  and  revealed 
the  steam  rising  from  the  tea-urn  to  the  girl's  brow, 
where  it  kissed  the  dark  locks  into  elfish  curls. 

"Will  monsieur  say  a  grace?"  asked  Marie,  with 
quiet  dignity,  and  three  heads  were  bowed. 

Then,  with  gentle  deftness,  she  poured  the  tea  and 
passed  the  viands,  the  while  keeping  up  a  running 
fire  of  conversation  with  madame.  Perry  was  con- 
vinced he  had  never  before  looked  on  so  charming  a 
picture.  All  of  the  girl's  youth  and  beauty  was  en- 


56  The  Wolverine 

hanced  by  the  proximity  of  so  much  that  was  old  and 
ugly.  Then,  too,  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  be- 
held her  in  the  French  cap  and  quaint  gown  which 
mademoiselle  wore  that  evening.  One  moment  her 
face  bore  all  the  sweet  gravity  of  a  Madonna,  the 
next  it  seemed  the  incarnation  of  everything  saucy. 

Listening  to  their  conversation,  Perry  caught,  occa- 
sionally, words  and  phrases  that  he  had  learned  from 
Francois,  and  so  knew  pretty  well  of  what  they  were 
talking,  if  he  did  not  understand  fully.  Marie  had 
not  given  her  aged  friend's  name,  but  he  rightly 
guessed  she  was  Mere  Gobielle  from  whom  Frangois 
had  had  all  his  legends.  Perry  was  thinking  if  such 
an  evening  could  be  his  once  or  twice  a  week  he 
would  soon  acquire  a  perfect  knowledge  of  French, 
when  a  wolf,  almost  under  the  eaves,  sent  up  a  long, 
hungry  howl. 

"Mere  de  Dieu!"  exclaimed  Marie,  with  a  shudder. 

"Le  loup  garou!"  breathed  grand'mere  in  awful 
whispers. 

The  next  instant  the  girl  was  laughing  at  the  silly 
start  she  had  given  herself.  "Ah,  monsieur  is  not 
afraid?"  she  questioned  with  scorn,  catching  sight  of 
the  pained  expression  on  his  face. 

"There  is  nothing  to  fear  from  the  wolf,"  said 
Perry.  He  did  not  explain  that  the  look,  which  she 
had  misunderstood,  was  caused  by  the  feeling  of  prof- 
anation that  swept  over  him  as  he  translated  her 
words.  He  knew  such  expressions  were  not  looked 
on  by  people  of  other  languages  as  the  English  re- 
gard them;  still  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  a  feeling 
of  horror  that  they  should  fall  from  lips  like  Marie's. 


The  Wolverine  57 

He  consoled  himself  with  the  thought  that  this  was 
one  of  the  things  which  he  was  to  lead  her  from,  into 
a  modified  Puritan  refinement. 

"Now,  grand'mere,  for  your  smoke!"  exclaimed 
Marie,  springing  from  the  table.  "I've  brought  a 
lot  of  'baccy."  Not  knowing  she  had  just  shocked 
Perry,  mademoiselle  perceived  an  excellent  chance 
for  doing  so  now.  Searching  her  basket  a  moment, 
she  broke  out  in  petulent  English,  "Oh,  grand'mere, 
my  pipe  it  is  at  home!  I  have  forgot  it.  Have  you 
not  two?  Two  will  be  enough — monsieur  does  not 
smoke."  And  she  came  back  to  the  table,  intent  on 
filling  the  old  crone's  short-stemmed  clay  pipe  with 
tobacco  just  taken  from  the  now  nearly  empty  basket. 
"Ah,  the  English,  I  forget  you  do  not  understand 
it."  And  she  rattled  off  something  which  Perry  must 
needs  judge  the  same  in  French. 

"Marie — no!"  he  cried,  starting  to  his  feet. 

"Only  this  one?"  Marie  had  repeated,  in  disap- 
pointed English,  after  madame's  words.  "Will  mon- 
sieur get  a  coal  for  grand'mere's  pipe?  Ciel!  Is 
monsieur  ill?" 

Perry  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  toward  the 
door.  He  had  had  a  sudden  and  painful  revelation. 
Far  down  the  future  he  saw  himself  sitting  before  an 
open  fire,  and  beside  him  was  the  counterpart  of  Mere 
Gobielle,  but  about  the  shrunken  form  and  wizened 
features  was  a  nebulous  something  that  once  had  been 
Marie.  This,  and  the  pain — what  did  it  mean? 

Soon  after  that,  they  left  the  hut  and  returned  to 
the  canoe.  Marie  made  a  number  of  light  remarks, 
but  Perry  would  not  be  drawn  from  his  moody  si- 


58  The  Wolverine 

lence.  However,  near  the  middle  of  the  river,  the 
canoe  struck  a  floating  log,  which  Perry  had  not 
seen,  as  a  cloud  momentarily  covered  the  moon. 
The  shock  threw  him  forward  from  his  knees,  nearly 
into  Marie's  lap. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  cried  the  girl,  "monsieur  is  so  care- 
less!" 

Perry  ground  his  teeth  for  fear  of  what  he  might 
say.  After  a  moment  he  permitted  himself  the  words : 
"I  will  be  more  careful." 

It  was  his  altered  tone  that  smote  her.  "I  beg 
monsieur's  pardon,"  she  said.  "I  know  it  could  not 
be  prevented."  As  no  reply  seemed  forthcoming,  she 
added  presently,  "Will  monsieur  not  forgive  me?" 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  answered  Perry,  main- 
taining a  reserve. 

"Ah,  but  monsieur's  manner  says  very,  very  dif- 
ferent." 

"You  would  not  understand — I  cannot  explain  it 
to  you " 

"I  know  I  am  very,  very  stupid,  monsieur.  But  it 

is  not  kind  to  tell  me  so.  And  I  will  listen "  She 

bent  toward  him  with  a  manner  that  was  irresistible 
in  its  subtle  charm. 

"There  is  such  a  difference "  he  stammered.  "It 

is  so  much " 

"Ah,  is  not  monsieur  easily  deceived?"  she  ques- 
tioned. 

"Only  for  a  moment,"  he  answered.  "I  know, 
Marie,  that  you  were  playing  with  me  about  the 
tobacco." 

"But  monsieur  has  forgiven  me  that.    What  else?" 


The  Wolverine  59 

"Nothing  to  forgive.  Yet  everything  to  wish  dif- 
ferent." 

"What?"  she  entreated  softly,  sincerely,  her  man- 
ner waxing  in  its  degree  of  insinuation. 

"Oh,  Marie!  you  are  French  and  a  Catholic,  while 
I  am  English  and  Protestant.  Can  there  be  greater 
difference?  We  do  not  understand  each  other,  now. 
I  had  hoped  we  might  be  friends.  But  how  can 
we? — we  shall  be  continually  quarreling " 

"Mon  Dieu,  I  do  not  think  so." 

"There  it  is!  That!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  know  you 
do  not  mean  wrong.  But  to  me  it  is  very,  very 
wrong  to  speak  of  God  lightly." 

"Ah,  that If  it  is  hurtful  to  monsieur — I  will 

remember — I  will  not  say  such  things  when  monsieur 
is  about." 

"Or  ever,  Marie.  I  would  have  you  give  it  up 
always !" 

"It  is  very,  very  much,"  she  mused.  "I  do  not 
see — if  monsieur  does  not  hear,  what  is  the  harm?" 

"It  is  the  sin.  It  is  your  soul,  Marie,"  he  said,  with 
intense  religious  fervor. 

"Ah!"  She  breathed  deeply  as  light  began  to  break 
over  her.  "Ah,  the  soul!  Does  monsieur  wish  me 
a  Protestant?" 

"Yes — I  pray  God!"  he  answered  reverently,  his 
whole  heart  in  the  words.  He  had  ceased  to  ply  the 
paddle,  and  unconsciously  leaned  toward  her. 

She  withdrew  from  him  as  if  bitten  by  a  reptile. 
"It  can  never,  never  be!  Why  does  monsieur  ask 
this?  I  have  never  wished  monsieur  to  be  a  Catholic! 
Eh  bien!  is  it  because  I  am  very,  very  wicked?  Mon- 


60  The  Wolverine 

sieur  should  have  been  a  clergyman.  Will  you  take 
me  to  the  land?"  She  was  greatly  moved. 

Perry  thought  he  had  spoilt  everything  by  making 
her  angry.  But  before  the  anger  and  the  sarcasm 
there  had  been  surprise,  regret,  reproach,  and  doubt; 
and  these  were  more  than  likely  to  recur  to  upset  any 
present  state.  Silently  he  resumed  the  paddle,  but 
with  such  vigor  that  presently  the  nose  of  the  canoe 
was  pushed  into  the  soft  mud  at  the  roots  of  the  great 
elm.  Marie  sprang  ashore  with  her  empty  basket. 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  wait,"  she  said,  with 
much  constraint.  "Monsieur  will  make  the  canoe 
secure.  Thanks.  Good  night!" 

With  that  she  disappeared  beyond  the  clump  of 
hazel  at  the  turn  of  the  path.  Perry  made  the  canoe 
fast,  and  then  waited  for  Marie  to  enter  the  house  as 
he  had  seen  her  come  out.  It  was  all  he  could  do. 
Afterward,  with  heavy  heart,  and  mind  sorely  per- 
turbed, he  made  his  way  to  his  hotel. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

CIRCUMSTANCES  compelled  the  French  to 
plat  their  farms  in  what  seemed  ridiculous 
shapes  to  the  agriculturist  of  a  later  day.  It 
was  necessary  to  form  some  protection  against  the 
Indians;  this,  and  because  your  Frenchman  loved  the 
society  of  his  neighbors,  led  him  to  divide  his  hold- 
ings into  long,  narrow  strips  facing  some  navigable 
river.  There  he  could  erect  houses  every  four  hun- 
dred feet,  and  work  the  land  back  as  far  into  the  in- 
terior as  he  chose.  Thus,  like  beads  strung  on  a  sil- 
ver thread,  were  built  up  little  settlements,  bunched 
for  strength  against  a  foe,  and  making  it  easy  to  con- 
gregate for  festivities. 

Such  a  settlement  had  grown  up  near  the  head  of 
Lake  St.  Clair;  and  such  a  farm  was  Isadore  Na- 
varre's, where  Marie  went  to  visit  the  day  after  that 
evening  at  Mere  Gobielle's.  Isadore  Navarre's  ances- 
tors had  received  the  land  in  1740  of  the  Marquis 
Duquesne  de  Menneville,  Governor-General  of 
Louisiana  and  Canada.  The  grantee  was  bound  to 
pay  a  specified  number  of  livres  each  year  in  peltries 
to  the  Crown,  and  to  assist  in  planting  a  May-pole 


62  The  Wolverine 

before  the  Mansion  House  on  each  May-day.  This 
the  Navarres  faithfully  did  till  the  land  was  made 
over  to  them  in  fee-simple,  as  were  other  grants  of 
a  similar  nature  to  their  occupants,  by  the  United 
States  Government  soon  after  it  took  possession. 

From  the  yard  in  front  of  the  Navarre  house  a 
charming  view  was  to  be  had  southward  across  the 
shallow  lake.  All  day  the  water  sparkled  in  the  sun 
from  the  moment  it  rose  over  the  low  delta  to  the 
east  till  it  set,  red  and  flaming,  on  the  flat  lands  to 
the  west.  Within  the  inclosure  of  red  cedar  palings 
ten  feet  high,  grew  two  enormous  pear  trees,  and 
beneath  the  shade  of  these  trees  Marie  Beaucceur  and 
her  cousin,  Claire  Navarre,  loved  to  lounge  on  the 
hot  August  afternoons. 

"Ah,  it  is  so  warm!"  sighed  Claire  in  French,  work- 
ing her  fan,  a  dainty  affair  of  birch-bark,  ornamented 
after  an  Indian  fashion  with  colored  quills  of  the 
porcupine. 

"Think  of  the  times  we  have  driven  on  the  ice  with 
the  traineau,  far  out  where  the  sail  now  is,"  replied 
Marie;  "will  it  not  make  you  cool?" 

"Ciel,  no!  I  will  not  believe  it  ever  was  or  ever 
can  be  so  cold  as  to  freeze  the  lake,"  declared  the 
other,  with  pretty  unreason. 

"Ah,  shall  I  stay  here  always,  then?  For  you  know 
I  am  not  to  return  home  till  we  can  go  on  the  ice,  and 
I  can  take  you  with  me." 

"And  do  you  think,  ma  cousine,  I  will  care  to  go, 
if  it  is  so  dull  and  stupid  in  Detroit  since  the  new 
people  are  coming  in?  You  have  not  been  one  bit 
like  last  year,  when  I  could  hardly  keep  you  here 


The  Wolverine  63 

through  the  summer.  Now  you  throw  your  whole 
heart  into  our  poor  charades.  Louis  Girardin  says 
you  are  perfect  in  the  plays.  In  or  out,  he  says,  you 
are  always  acting  a  part — now  one  thing,  now  another. 
You  are  such  a  mystery,  ma  chere.  You  no  longer 
talk  of  the  balls  in  the  city,  of  the  gay  parties,  and 
merry-makings,  as  you  used.  Do  you  think  I  have 
not  missed  your  confidence?  Ah,  Marie,  sometimes 
I  think  a  lover  has  jilted  thee." 

"Think  so  if  you  choose,  Claire,"  returned  her 
cousin,  with  a  shade  of  annoyance.  "But  it  is  not 
true.  And  I  will  thank  Louis  Girardin  to  keep  his 
opinions  to  himself.  I  tell  thee  plainly  I  have  no 
lover,  more  than  other  years.  Etienne  Baddeau — I 
care  not  for  him — or  any!" 

Both  girls  were  seated  in  the  boughs  of  the  larger 
pear  tree.  Marie  idly  rested  against  a  slanting  limb, 
which,  with  another,  formed  a  rude  rustic  couch.  But 
she  straightened  before  finishing  her  words,  and  a 
flush  of  determination  spread  over  her  face. 

"What  of  monsieur  le  secretaire?"  questioned 
Claire,  with  the  air  of  having  divined  some  secret. 

"You  may  have  him  when  you  come  to  Detroit," 
Marie  returned,  indifferently.  "He  is  one  of  the  new- 
comers. He  is  from  Virginia;  ah,  and  very  gallant. 
I  think  you  will  like  him.  But  he  does  not  belong 
to  the  Church." 

An  empty  cart  trundled  across  the  yard,  drawn  by 
oxen  without  a  yoke,  but  with  a  rope  of  twisted  raw- 
hide fastened  around  the  horns.  The  girls  were  silent 
till  the  long-visaged,  bare-footed  French  youth  ac- 
companying the  cart  had  driven  beyond  hearing. 


64  The  Wolverine 

"Marie!  are  you  going  to  be  a  nun?"  demanded 
Claire,  when  they  were  alone.  "I  have  heard  you  talk 
so  much  about  the  Church!  I  could  never  be  a  nun 
— unless  I  was  disappointed — that  is,  unless  the  man 
I  loved  married  a  hateful  rival.  And  that  is  why  I 
said » 

"No;  I  am  not  going  to  be  a  nun/'  interrupted 
Marie,  not  caring  to  have  her  cousin  repeat  the  words. 
But  she  spoke  listlessly,  gazing  far  out  where  the  lone 
sloop  was  beating  to  windward  up  the  current.  "I 
merely  said  that  Monsieur  Mason  does  not  belong 
to  the  Church." 

"And  what  of  that?" 

"We  were  speaking  of  him  as  a  lover.  Would  you 
marry  a  heretic?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  Claire,  for  she  had 
never  before  considered  such  a  possibility.  "If  he  were 
a  heretic  and  loved  me,  I  think  he  would  come  over  to 
my  Church,"  she  added,  with  much  assurance. 

"Then  he  would  be  a  weak  lover,"  returned  Marie, 
with  the  readiness  of  having  thought  it  all  out.  "And 
I  should  despise  such!" 

"Well,  then  I  think  I  would  become  a  heretic,  too, 
and  marry  him,"  said  Claire,  off-hand.  A  weak  lover 
was  out  of  the  question. 

"Ah,  Claire,  do  you  remember  what  becomes  of 
heretics  when  they  die?"  Marie  spoke  solemnly,  with 
great  earnestness. 

"I  should  repent  before  that." 

"And  your  children — do  you  think  they  would  all 
repent,  too,  before  tliey  died?  Ah,  if  they  should 
not — if  there  was  one — one  that  did  not!  It  would 


The  Wolverine  65 

kill  me  to  live  with  such  a  thought!"  Marie's  breast 
rose  and  fell  with  strange,  deep  emotion. 

"Perhaps  the  Church  is  wro "  Claire  started 

and  looked  around,  and  did  not  finish  her  sentence 
of  doubt.  Both  were  frightened,  and  crossed  them- 
selves. It  was  a 'terrible  thought.  Claire  hastened 
away  from  it.  "To  love  and  not  marry — ah!  it  would 

be  dreadful — and  if  one  were  loved But  it  will 

not  happen/'  she  consoled  herself. 

"If  you  come  to  Detroit  it  may/'  declared  her 
cousin,  with  fateful  insistence.  "Very  few  of  the  new 
people  are  members  of  the  Church.  And  there  are 
many  fine  young  men." 

"Ah,  but  I  shall  come,  any  way."  Evidently  she 
gave  the  question  more  thought,  for  after  a  moment 
she  asked:  "What  would  you  do,  Marie?" 

"I  should  be  very,  very  careful  how  I  thought  of 
young  men  who  do  not  belong  to  the  Church,"  said 
Marie,  slowly;  and  one  might  have  guessed  she  spoke 
with  the  wisdom  of  a  painful  experience.  "And," — 
still  more  slowly,  with  some  thought  that  developed 
a  grim  expression, — "if  I  did  fall  in  love  with  one — 
with  a  heretic — ah!  If  I  could  not  forget  him  other- 
wise, I  think  I  would  prove  him  a  coward,  a  weak- 
ling, and  so  I  should  despise  him,  and  the  love  would 
die  out  of  my  heart!" 

"Marie!  One  would  think  you  were  biting  the 
head  off  a  snake!  Why,  I  never  saw  you  look  so!" 

With  an  effort  Marie  regained  herself.  "The  novel 
— it  is  the  one  we  are  reading,  I  think," — she  said  in 
English,  fanning  her  flushed  face.  "It  is  plain  to 
you,  is  it  not?  that  Leicester  is  weak,  faithless,  and 


66  The  Wolverine 

unworthy  of  a  good  woman.  Amy  is  weak  now — but 
she  will  grow  stronger.  Her  eyes  will  be  opened. 
Fight  against  love  it  is  useless.  But  yield  and  prove 
the  lover  weak,  unworthy;  and  so  love  is  turned  to 
hate,  and  the  pain  is  it  not  stopped?  Mon  Dieu!  I 
think  it  is." 

Marie  clapped  her  hand  to  her  mouth  as  if  she  had 
said  more  than  she  wished; — perhaps  it  was  something 
she  had  promised  not  to  say.  "Eh  bien,"  she  con- 
tinued suddenly,  "I  will  fetch  the  book,  and  we  will 
read  it  aloud  as  yesterday."  She  stepped  from  the 
low  branches  to  the  ground.  "We  must  read  it  for 
the  English,  and  we  must  speak  the  English  as  well, 
or  we  will  forget  it  all  where  there  is  only  French 
spoken." 

"Mon  Dieu,  I  would  not  forget  my  English,"  ex- 
claimed Claire.  "Ah,  the  scolding  from  Pere  Richard 
— do  I  not  hear  it  now?"  She  put  her  fingers  in  her 
ears  as  if  to  stop  the  sound.  "And,  Marie,  you  say 
the  schools  have  made  great  advancement  since  we 
left  them?" 

"Is  it  not  great  advancement  when  they  have  in- 
struments?— oh  fine!  Besides  the  spinning-wheel 
which  we  had,  they  have  a  glass  wheel  now  that  gives 
out  little  sparks  of  fire — electreeceety,  they  call  it. 
And  oh!  much  besides.  But,  ma  cousine,  I  think  I 
would  not  say  such  words  as  'Mon  Dieu'.  I  have 
made  myself  to  give  them  up.  The  English  they  think 
it  not  elegant." 

"Ah,  the  English— I  have  heard  it!  'My  God'  they 
say — and  is  it  not  the  same?  Monsieur  the  Lake 
Captain  that  stops  here,  he  says  it  much." 


The  Wolverine  67 

"Ah,   yes,   the   men — some  men.     But  never  the 
ladies.    And  the  fine  men — 1'homme  bien  ne — never!" 
Of  her  teacher  Marie  did  not  speak. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DURING  those  later  summer  months  and  all 
the  autumn,  Perry  too  was  away  from  the  city. 
When  he  returned,  driven  into  town  by  the 
snow  flurries  of  early  December,  he  found  many 
changes  had  taken  place.  His  friend,  Governor  Cass, 
had  been  called  to  Washington  to  become  Secretary 
of  War  in  President  Jackson's  cabinet.  There  had 
been  a  meeting  of  prominent  citizens  to  protest 
against  so  young  a  man  as  Secretary  of  the  Territory, 
but  nothing  came  of  this,  and  now  Mason  was  virtu- 
ally Governor  in  the  absence  of  his  chief. 

Perry  called  early  at  the  executive  office  to  make 
his  report,  and  was  cordially  received  by  the  young 
officer.  Mason  handed  him  a  note  from  Governor 
Cass,  continuing  to  him  the  use  of  the  writer's  library 
during  his  absence,  and  directing  Perry  how  to  gain 
free  access  to  the  books.  Perry  was  touched  by  the 
great  man's  consideration,  and  spoke  in  warm  terms 
of  his  regard. 

For  an  hour  Mason  and  he  discussed  Territorial 
matters,  men  and  women ;  and  when  Perry  left  he  was 
cordially  invited  to  call  again.  He  came  away  won- 


The  Wolverine  69 

dering  at  that  early  meeting  of  protest;  for  he  was 
sensible  of  having  passed  his  time  with  one  wise  far 
beyond  his  years,  possessed  of  a  manliness  that  was 
as  charming  as  it  was  irresistably  magnetic. 

As  there  was  every  reason  to  believe  he  would 
spend  several  months  in  the  city,  Perry  sought  out 
a  boarding  place  in  a  private  house.  He  succeeded 
in  finding  the  quarters  he  wished,  a  block  above  Ste. 
Anne's  church,  and  at  once  moved  his  belongings 
thither.  The  house  was  one  of  the  newer  ones,  built 
of  brick,  and  owned  by  a  Mrs.  Rolland,  widow  of  a 
lake  captain.  There  were  two  other  boarders;  one — 
a  remarkably  bright  young  lady — his  hostess  intro- 
duced as  her  niece,  Elva  Webber.  Mrs.  Rolland  spoke 
with  a  broad  Scotch  accent,  but  Miss  Webber's  speech 
was  characteristically  American.  Early  in  life  she 
had  lost  her  mother;  her  father,  grief  stricken,  had 
buried  himself  in  the  wilds  of  Astoria,  where  he  was 
said  to  be  making  fabulous  sums  of  money. 

Perry's  new  home  promised  to  meet  all  his  needs 
for  his  winter's  work  and  study.  The  attic  was  his 
to  transform  into  a  workshop,  and  he  furnished  it 
with  bench,  lathe,  and  kit  of  tools.  In  his  labors  as 
land  surveyor  he  had  long  felt  the  need  of  a  more 
perfect  instrument,  and  never  so  sorely  as  since  run- 
ning north  and  south  lines  in  Michigan.  The  aber- 
rations of  the  needle  in  the  magnetic  compass  were 
exceedingly  perplexing.  There  were  instances  where, 
to  keep  parallel,  he  had  had  to  increase  the  variation 
one  degree  for  two  miles,  while  the  next  two  miles 
required  no  increase  whatever,  and  then  the  succeed- 
ing two  miles  the  variation  actually  decreased  twenty 


jo  The  Wolverine 

seconds.  It  was  after  such  an  experience  that  he  de- 
termined to  evolve  some  instrument  that  would  free 
him  from  the  inaccuracy  and  annoyances  of  the  mag- 
netic needle.  This  was  one  of  the  problems  he  had 
set  to  work  out  during  the  long,  cold  winter. 

He  planned  a  routine  at  once,  giving  certain  hours 
to  labor  of  an  official  nature,  and  reserving  other 
hours  for  reading  and  recreation.  Under  the  last 
heading  he  placed  the  time  spent  with  the  Brady 
Guards.  In  this  way  but  few  moments  were  left  for 
brooding,  and  Perry  often  congratulated  himself  on 
recovering  so  easily  from  a  certain  disappointment 
which  always  presented  itself  in  the  shape  of  a  dark- 
eyed  demoiselle. 

He  fairly  saturated  himself  in  scientific  reading  at 
this  time,  attracted  to  it  on  perusing  some  essays  by 
Louis  Agassiz,  a  new  writer  of  irresistible  fascina- 
tion. At  once  it  sent  the  reader  to  the  library  at  his 
command,  where  he  found  books  and  pamphlets  by 
Lyell,  Humboldt,  the  elder  Darwin,  translations  of 
works  by  Cuvier,  Geoffrey  St.-Hillaire,  and  other 
eminent  scientists  of  his  time.  All  these  he  devoured 
as  a  gourmand,  and  thenceforward  the  world  was  to 
have  a  different  aspect  for  him,  though  several  months 
elapsed  before  he  realized  the  change. 

Meanwhile  he  had  kept  away  from  the  gay  social 
gatherings  of  the  winter-bound  city.  He  told  his 
landlady,  buxom  Mrs.  Rolland,  that  he  cared  not 
for  such  things.  In  truth,  when  he  thought  of  the 
matter  he  always  seemed  to  see  a  very  pretty  French 
face,  one  that  had  proved  a  distracting  element  in  his 
work,  and  he  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  less  he  saw 


The  Wolverine  71 

of  that  face  the  better.  Sometimes  he  remembered 
certain  proselyting  ideas  he  had  once  entertained; 
but  he  also  remembered  that  once  he  had  wished  to 
fly  like  a  bird.  He  was  wiser  now — and  Providence 
never  asked  a  man  to  do  the  impossible. 

One  cold,  bright,  January  day,  however,  he  went 
to  the  river  to  see  the  skating,  and  there  met  an  old 
young  friend.  Francois,  without  the  question,  in- 
formed Perry  that  his  sister  had  not  yet  returned  from 
his  uncle's,  but  since  the  river  and  lake  were  frozen 
over,  they  were  looking  for  her  every  day. 

The  next  night  the  acting-governor  gave  a  grand 
ball  at  the  American  Hotel;  and  promising  himself 
that  he  should  not  go  out  again  all  winter,  Perry  at- 
tended. He  took  the  chance — and  lost.  Marie  was 
there. 

It  was  a  brilliant  affair.  Not  only  were  all  the  first 
families  of  the  Territory  represented,  but  among  the 
guests  were  many  British  officers  from  the  posts  across 
the  river.  And  with  the  red-coated  army  gentlemen 
met  the  blue  on  friendly  terms,  for  American  officers 
were  present  from  Fort  Gratiot  above.  There  was 
General  Brady  shaking  hands  with  his  old  adversary, 
General  Brasden  of  Fort  Maiden,  and  recalling  inci- 
dents of  the  fight  at  Lundy's  Lane.  A  few  short 
years  and  these  two  old  war  dogs  were  to  show  teeth 
and  snarl  at  each  other  again,  if  they  did  not  become 
embroiled  in  their  very  efforts  to  preserve  the  peace. 

The  dashing  young  Governor,  a  general  favorite, 
seemed  everywhere  to  welcome  his  guests.  Now  he 
was  dancing  with  the  ladies  down  the  long  dining- 
room,  cleared  for  the  occasion ;  a  moment  later  he  as- 


72  The  Wolverine 

sisted  at  the  buffet  to  mix  a  Jamaica  toddy  for  an 
army  friend.  Perfect  now  in  his  dress,  before  the 
function  was  ended  the  rolling  shirt-collar  would  be 
crumpled,  and  coat-button  number  two  where  button 
number  one  should  be;  his  appearance,  in  fact,  very 
much  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick  after  a  dinner  with  his 
club.  But  whole-hearted  and  generous,  the  pride  of 
his  sisters,  the  idol  of  his  elegant  old  mother,  he 
was  more  than  a  roisterer  from  Virginia,  and  under 
the  influence  of  good  advisers  their  "Tom"  was  to 
develop  into  a  shrewd,  careful  diplomat. 

That  night  Perry  met  the  aged  Trumbull  and  talked 
with  him  of  Revolutionary  matters;  of  Washington 
and  the  Adamses,  whom  the  old  man  had  seen,  know- 
ing the  latter  gentlemen  well;  of  his  celebrated  poem, 
M'Fingal,  which  Perry  had  read,  and  confessed  a 
liking  now  for  the  splendid  satire. 

"  'Oh,  had  Great  Britain's  warlike  shore 
Produced  but  ten  such  heroes  more '  " 

quoted  Perry  to  the  old  man's  infinite  delight. 

Next  to  this  patriot  sat  another,  Major  Thompson 
Maxwell,  past  ninety  years  of  age,  but  still  wishing  to 
honor  the  young  Governor.  Perry  obtained  a  seat 
near  him  and  listened  to  his  story  of  the  Boston  Tea 
Party.  For  Maxwell  had  been  one  of  the  forty  or 
fifty  men  selected  by  John  Hancock,  as  he  declared, 
to  dress  in  the  garb  of  Mohawk  Indians,  and  throw 
the  hateful  tea  into  the  harbor.  Perry  had  read  the 
story  many  times  in  his  history,  and  felt  the  blood 
thrill  with  each  perusal.  But  reading  was  as  nothing 
compared  to  hearing  the  personal  narrative,  with 
Such  details  as  no  historian  could  give;  to  look  into 


The  Wolverine  73 

eyes  that  had  looked  on  the  very  scene,  and  clasp  a 
hand  that  had  so  roughly  handled  the  obnoxious 
goods.  This  was  an  evening  to  remember  all  one's 
days! 

Presently,  up  came  diminutive  Doctor  Houghton 
and  stalwart  young  Chandler,  men  from  the  East 
like  himself;  with  them  Perry  was  to  be  closely  asso- 
ciated in  the  days  to  come;  and  one  was  to  lose  his 
life  in  its  middle  years  on  the  great  northern  lake, 
the  other  to  thrill  the  country  with  bold  words  of 
patriotism  in  Congressional  halls  at  a  time  when 
traitors  openly  plotted  their  treason,  and  brave  hearts 
everywhere  trembled.  There  were  young  women 
present,  as  handsome  as  any  in  the  world.  One  was 
to  marry  an  English  earl  and  add  lustre  to  a  house 
already  famous  for  achievement  in  two  hemispheres. 
And  one  was  to  marry  a  Polish  count,  live  out  a 
career  of  lights  and  shadows  greater  than  which  one 
may  scarcely  see  again,  and  die  deserted  at  last  in 
a  low  Paris  den.  But,  praise  Heaven!  the  majority 
were  to  marry  at  home  and  rear  sons  to  save  the 
dearest  Nation  God  has  yet  given  to  govern  the 
children  of  men. 

"Mr.  North,  I  wish  to  present  you  to  my  cousin, 
Miss  Navarre." 

Perry  had  not  been  to  the  long  room  where  the 
dancing  was  going  on,  and  until  that  moment  had 
not  seen  Marie.  Between  himself  and  her  he  believed 
stretched  many  miles  of  snow  and  ice.  Had  he  been 
less  startled  he  might  have  perceived  that  she  was 


74  The  Wolverine 

not  entirely  free  from  agitation  herself.  But  to  her 
was  given  a  skill  for  hiding  emotion  that  was  not  his. 

"Ah!  that  last  waltz  it  has  set  my  head  so  in  a 
whirl!"  she  declared,  with  a  flutter  of  her  fan. 

"Ciel,"  exclaimed  Miss  Navarre.  "It  is  the  man- 
ner of  monsieur  le  gouverneur.  With  me  it  was  the 
same.  He  is  one  furore — oh!  but  very  fine.  I  have 
not  danced — so  like  a  bird!  flying,  is  it  not?" 

"Miss  Beaucoeur,  I  did  not  know — I  supposed  you 
were "  stammered  Perry. 

"Oh,  we  returned  last  night,"  Marie  interrupted, 
guessing  his  intended  speech.  "Did  you  think  I  was 
going  to  remain  away  always?  Everyone  else  is  ask- 
ing why  I  was  gone  so  long.  And  if  you  were  very 
gallant,  Mr.  North,  you  would  tell  me  now  that  it 
has  already  seemed  like  always."  She  spoke  with  a 
return  of  her  former  charming  naivete. 

Already  his  brain  was  swimming  with  the  intoxica- 
tion that  came  of  her  presence.  He  had  noted  that 
the  cousin  had  Marie's  eyes  and  Marie's  mouth,  and 
he  had  looked  quickly  to  a  third  lady — who  chanced 
to  be  Elva  Webber — to  assure  himself  that  he  was 
not  always  to  see  Marie's  face  above  every  pair  of 
pretty  shoulders;  such  had  been  his  sudden  morbid 
fancy.  Formerly  she  had  called  him  "monsieur;"  he 
felt  a  sense  of  injury  now  at  her  use  of  the  English 
equivalent.  The  other  had  taken  him  more  into  her 
life.  This  put  him  at  a  distance.  Then  he  remem- 
bered that  their  ways  were  to  be  far  apart. 

"I  fear  I  am  fated  to  displease  you,  Miss  Beau- 
coeur," he  said,  wishing  more  and  more  to  do  the 
contrary.  "It  has  never  been  my  good  fortune  to  say 


The  Wolverine  75 

the  right  thing  at  the  right  time.  Truly,  it  has  been 
long  since  I  saw  you  last; — as  much  as  six  months." 

"Ah,  more  than  that — three  days  more!  You  see 
I  remember  exactly.  Claire,  I  must  tell  you  of  that 
sometime.  It  was  such  an  adventure!  I  took  Mr. 
North  to  visit  Mere  Gobielle's.  Do  you  remember 
Grand'mere?  And  the  next  day  I  started  for  Uncle 
Isadore's."  Marie's  words  were  almost  feverish.  "Ah, 
I  have  been  with  you  five  minutes,  Mr.  North,  and 
you  have  not  once  said  you  were  glad  to  see  me,  or 
that  you  have  missed  me.  Monsieur  le  gouverneur 
told  me  both  three  times  in  a  single  dance." 

"The  Governor  had  an  opportunity  where  none 
other  might  hear,"  answered  Perry,  blushing  at  his 
own  audacity.  "Have  you  never  heard  of  a  silence 
that  speaks  more  than  words?" 

Marie  clapped  her  hands.  "It  is  the  first  pretty 
speech  you  ever  made  me!  Claire,  did  you  hear?  Ah! 
Mr.  North,  you  are  getting  on.  Major  Hadley,  you 
should  have  heard  Mr.  North's  words!" 

"Should  I?  Then  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me 
what  they  were?" 

"No,  no.  You  have  come  to  claim  the  dance  with 
ma  cousine.  And  I  will  not  detain  you.  Claire  has 
been  from  the  ball-room  ten  minutes,  and  death  it  is 
from  ennui  that  will  claim  her,  if  at  once  she  does  not 
return.  Besides,  I  have  promised  to  walk  with  Mr. 
North.  He  has  asked  for  an  opportunity  to  make  a 
pretty  speech  which  no  one  else  may  hear." 

"I'll  wager  you  tell  it  afterward,"  said  the  depart- 
ing Major. 

"I'll  wager  she'll  never  have  it  to  tell,"  thought 


76  The  Wolverine 

Perry,  with  a  feeble  effort  to  regain  himself.  For 
Marie  had  not  been  altogether  pleasing  in  her  last 
words. 

"Let  us  take  this  way,"  said  mademoiselle,  point- 
ing down  a  hall  dimly  lighted.  At  the  end  was 
another  corridor  with  no  light  at  all,  save  a  cold 
radiance  from  the  moon  through  a  frost-stained  win- 
dow. A  cry  of  delight  broke  from  Marie  as  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  night  in  all  its  beauty  with- 
out. 

Her  manner  had  undergone  a  transformation  the 
moment  they  were  alone.  There  was  no  longer  the 
forced  gaiety  of  the  ball  room.  Now  she  was  simple, 
sincere;  timid  almost  as  a  child.  She  breathed  on  the 
window,  and  rubbed  a  larger  space  through  which  to 
view  the  snow-covered,  moon-lighted  earth.  Did 
she  really  enjoy  the  scene  as  manifest,  or  was  it  a 
ruse  to  cover  some  secret  agitation? 

Perry  questioned  nothing,  only  rejoiced  in  the 
change  which  had  taken  place.  Was  it  because  the 
silences  were  long  that  she  seemed  like  the  Marie  of 
his  dreams?  When  they  spoke,  their  words  were 
commonplace  enough. 

"The  great  change  what  is  it  that  has  come  over 
Detroit  since  last  summer?"  Marie  asked,  as  she 
turned  away  from  the  window. 

"The  snow?"  suggested  Perry,  with  much  stu- 
pidity. 

"No,  no!    I  can  see  that,  of  course." 

"There  are  many  people  here,"  he  ventured. 

"It  is  not  that.    Things  are  older,  wiser,  different — 


The  Wolverine  77 

and  I  cannot  tell  how.  But  you  are  so  clever.  I 
thought  you  would  know." 

"I  wonder  if  you  know  that  I  left  Detroit,  also,  that 
next  day  after  we  were  at  Madame  Gobielle's.  It  is 
only  a  few  weeks  since  I  returned." 

"Ah,  I  did  not  know  that.  And  why  did  you  go?" 
she  questioned,  unconscious  that  her  accent  inferred 
some  personal  reason. 

"It  was  my  work,"  he  replied.  "I  think  I  told  you 
once  I  should  be  away  a  great  deal  of  the  time." 

"Ah,  I  had  forgot.    And  again  soon  do  you  go?" 

"Not  before  next  summer,  I  hope." 

"Then  we  shall  see  you  often." 

"Thank  you  for  saying  so,"  he  replied.  "I  shall 
leave  you  to  judge:  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been 
out  this  winter;  and  I  promised  myself  before  I  came, 
it  should  not  happen  again." 

"Ah,  you  make  such  horrid  promises!  You  are  all 
achievement  and  no  amusement.  It  is  not  good.  You 
are — what  shall  I  say?  More  American  than  the 
most  American.  No  play — all  work.  You  have  never 
been  to  our  house -" 

The  words  came  before  thought,  and  ended  in  a 
little,  embarrassed  catch  of  the  breath. 

"I  have  thought  of  calling,"  he  said.  "But  I  have 
been  away;  and  you  have  been  away " 

In  her  heart  she  thanked  him  for  understanding 
her,  and  so  completely  ignoring  a  painful  memory. 
"I  shall  be  at  home  a  great  deal  now.  My  cousin 
will  be  with  me.  We  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  Mr. 
North." 

"Thank  you;  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  call." 


78  The  Wolverine 

They  returned  now  to  the  corridor  where  the  light 
was  burning.  Many  couples  were  promenading  up 
and  down  its  length,  and  the  place  rang  with  merry 
voices  and  gay,  unrestrained  laughter.  The  music  of 
the  ball-room  flowed  out  through  wide-open  doors 
like  some  limpid  stream,  immersing  other  sounds  in 
its  all-embracing  melody.  Gold-lace  and  military 
uniforms,  bright  gowns  and  sparkling  jewels,  gave 
color  and  brilliancy  to  many  an  imposing  group  of 
guests. 

A  British  officer  with  a  lady  on  his  arm  came  toward 
Perry  and  Marie,  evidently  intending  to  intercept 
them.  Mademoiselle  had  perceived  an  exchange  of 
friendly  glances  between  the  lady  and  her  own  escort 
before  they  were  joined.  This  led  Perry  to  anticipate 
their  meeting  with  an  explanation. 

"You  know  I  am  living  with  Mrs.  Rolland  now," 
he  said;  "so  Miss  Webber  and  I  are  pretty  well 
acquainted." 

"I  did  not  know  it,"  Marie  replied  with  a  note  of 
surprise.  And  at  that  moment  the  two  reached  them. 
"Mr.  North  has  just  told  me  an  amazing  piece  of 
news.  I  did  not  know,  Elva,  that  he  was  living  with 
your  aunt." 

"Why,  Marie,  is  that  so?"  exclaimed  Miss  Webber, 
with  polite  astonishment.  "But  you  have  been  away," 
she  explained,  and  added :  "I  am  so  glad  you  are  back 
again.  I  have  been  longing  to  see  you.  And  your 
cousin  is  with  you!  Yes,  Mr.  North  and  I  are  living 
under  the  same  roof,  and  we  are  quarreling  most  of 
the  time.  You  must  be  careful  what  you  say  to  him. 
I  warn  you!  he  has  a  dreadful  temper." 


The  Wolverine  79 

"Isn't  some  one  telling  tales  away  from  home?" 
questioned  Perry  with  a  tone  of  rebuke,  at  which 
Miss  Webber  clapped  the  tips  of  her  daintily  gloved 
hand  over  her  mouth. 

"Why  not  retaliate,  Mr.  North?"  said  the  officer, 
hoping  to  hear  something  of  his  fair  companion. 

"No,  indeed,"  returned  Perry  promptly,  with  seri- 
ous mien. 

"It's  a  case  of  living  in  a  glass  house,  Colonel 
Campbell/'  explained  Miss  Webber,  renewing  her 
attack. 

"Colonel  Campbell  has  heard  Miss  Webber  confess 
to  the  same  roof,"  Perry  shot  back,  and  all  joined  in 
the  laugh  that  followed. 

The  ladies  reiterated  their  pleasure  at  meeting 
again,  and  promised  to  exchange  calls  at  an  early 
day.  Perry  and  the  British  officer  talked  of  the  win- 
ter's sports,  and  of  the  gay  gathering  of  which  they 
were  a  part.  Colonel  Campbell  was  a  fine  fellow,  a 
younger  son  of  the  Duke  of  Cairngyll;  utterly  devoid 
of  arrogance,  he  had  none  of  that  self-sufficiency 
which  makes  a  warm  friendship  impossible.  At  home, 
outside  of  the  army,  he  was  known  as  Lord  Percy. 

"Somewhere  there  is  a  buffet,  Mr.  North,"  Marie 
said,  presently.  "I  am  very  thirsty — and  a  little  tired/* 
Perry  led  her  to  a  seat  in  one  of  the  adjoining  rooms, 
and  went  to  find  the  place  of  refreshment.  Presently 
he  returned  with  a  glass  of  water. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said;  and  after  drinking:  "I  might 
have  known  you  would  bring  water.  You  never 
drink  wine,"  she  ventured  confidently. 

"I  have,"  answered  Perry,  with  a  tone  of  liberality. 


8o  The  Wolverine 

"You  say  I  never  do;  perhaps  you  divine  a  resolve 
I  have  made  never  to  drink  wine  again."  Then  wish- 
ing to  please  her  and  curious  to  know,  he  asked — 
"Did  you  wish  wine,  Miss  Beaucoeur?" 

"If,  I  had  asked  for  it,  would  you  have  brought  it 
to  me?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  after  a  moment's  thought. 

"Why  do  you  hesitate?" 

"You  are  very  inquisitive,  Mar — Miss  Beaucoeur." 

She  laughed  oddly;  Perry  hardly  knew  whether  at 
the  blunder  he  narrowly  escaped,  or  at  the  point  he 
would  make  in  their  conversation.  That  she  was 
pleased  her  eyes  told  him  in  a  charming  manner. 
"Ah,  you  are  so  different  from  the  rest,"  she  said. 
"I  think  you  do  not  know.  If  you  did  you  would  not 
wonder  at  my  questions.  And  you  have  not  answered 
the  last " 

"Why  did  I  hesitate?  I  was  thinking.  You  will 
agree  with  me  that  it  is  better  to  leave  the  wine  alone 
than  to  become  as  many  of  these  will,  before  the  night 
is  done." 

"Ah,  yes.    But  why  make  a  beast  of  oneself?" 

"Another  question,"  he  commented,  and  she 
laughed  with  renewed  pleasure. 

She  rose  now.  "Your  voice  is  very  like  Pere 
Richard's; — I  had  wondered.  Your  sentiments  are 
his,  also.  You  two  should  be  acquainted.  Have  you 
ever  met  him?" 

"Yes,  many  times,"  Perry  answered.  "I  rode  with 
him  recently  to  Monroe."  He  wanted  to  tell  of  that 
journey,  and  so  prolong  the  moments.  But  Marie 
was  casting  glances  as  a  bird  about  to  fly. 


The  Wolverine  81 

"Have  you  seen  my  father,  Mr.  North?"  she  ques- 
tioned. 

"Indeed,  I  just  met  him.  I  didn't  know  he  was  here 
till  I  ran  against  him  in  the  next  room.  He  and  Mr. 
Richard  are  together." 

"Father  Richard?"    His  words  had  seemed  so  odd. 

"Yes.    And  your  cousin  is  with  them." 

"Take  me  to  them,  will  you  please?  I  think  it  is 
time  Louis  came  with  our  cariole.  It  must  be  nearly 
midnight." 

Perry  had  a  great  deal  to  think  of  when  he  reached 
his  rooms  half  an  hour  later.  By  some  mysterious 
trick  of  circumstances  six  months  seemed  suddenly 
recalled,  and  he  was  back  where  he  had  stood  on  that 
evening  of  visiting  Mere  Gobielle's.  He  had  talked 
religion  with  Marie — and  yet  she  wished  to  be  friends 
with  him!  It  is  true  her  manner  was  more  formal 
than  before,  but  here  the  six  months  of  separation 
offered  a  welcome  explanation.  Her  formality  but 
thinly  veiled  a  friendly  spirit,  he  was  sure. 

If  it  had  not  been  the  very  next  day,  Perry  would 
have  gone  to  make  his  promised  call  at  the  Beaucceur 
home.  He  decided  it  was  best  to  curb  such  impul- 
siveness, and  wait  another  twenty-four  hours.  Then 
came  a  dainty  note  inviting  him  to  a  dinner  there.  He 
guessed  the  handwriting  was  Marie's,  and  it  gave 
him  a  pleasure  unimagined  heretofore.  He  traced 
every  line  and  curve  many  times.  It  required  re- 
peated perusals  to  make  sure  of  the  day  and  hour,  and 
he  even  tricked  Mrs.  Rolland  into  reading  the  words 
aloud  that  his  ears  and  another's  eyes  might  confirm 
the  testimony  of  his  own. 


82  The  Wolverine 

After  this,  coming  to  himself,  he  declared  he  was 
daft,  and  that  he  should  not  go  to  the  Beaucceur's 
at  all. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PIERRE  BEAUCCEUR  was  born  in  the  house 
in  which  he  lived.  There,  three  different  gov- 
ernments had  ruled  over  his  head,  coming  and 
going  with  the  fortunes  of  war,  till  the  changes  had 
marked  three  times  more.  Through  war  and  in 
peace,  in  the  beautiful  bright  days  of  spring,  in  the 
lazy,  sultry  weather  of  summer,  in  the  golden  gor- 
geous autumn,  in  the  snug,  crisp  cold  of  the  long  win- 
ters, he  had  watched  the  growth  and  progress  of 
Detroit.  From  his  dormer-windows  he  had  seen  the 
surveyor  enter  his  fine  old  orchard;  and  we  have 
learned  how  jealously  he  guarded  his  own,  after  his 
best  lights.  From  those  same  dormer-windows  he 
had  looked  over  the  sparkling  straits,  and  seen  the  old 
"Walk-in-the- Water"  of  1818—  the  first  steamboat 
on  the  Lakes, — supersede  the  Indian  canoe  and 
pirogue,  to  give  place  again  to  the  "Henry  Clay,"  the 
"Niagara,"  the  "Sheldon  Thompson";  which,  in  turn, 
were  to  be  sent  adrift  by  the  "Illinois,"  the  "Em- 
pire," and  the  "Mayflower,"  and  these  by  others,  till 
the  floating  palaces  of  to-day,  of  thousands  of  tons 


84  The  Wolverine 

burthen,  with  speed  like  the  wind,  should  by  a  natural 
evolution  claim  possession. 

The  ancestors  of  Pierre  Beaucoeur  came  from  Nor- 
mandy on  the  lower  Seine.  Those  on  his  father's  side 
settled  first  in  Lower  Canada,  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  thence  came  to  Detroit 
at  an  early  date.  Those  on  his  mother's  side — the 
Navarres — came  directly  here  from  France,  in  the 
fore  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  it  was  from 
this  royal  line  that  Beaucoeur  inherited  his  courtly 
manners,  and  sturdy  fighting  qualities,  which  he  had, 
in  spite  of  the  sobriquet — "L'Abbe." 

The  little  dinner  party  which  assembled  in  that 
home  on  this  cold  winter  evening  was  typical  of  the 
city  at  that  time.  Twenty  were  the  number  to  sit 
down  at  the  table  when  all  had  arrived — a  little  late, 
for  the  Governor's  party  kept  them  waiting  at  the  last. 
Perry  was  there  in  spite  of  words  to  the  contrary;  in- 
deed, as  the  hour  approached,  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  draw  him  from  the  place  with  all  the 
French  ponies  in  the  Territory. 

"I  am  so  chagrined,  Mrs.  Beaucoeur,"  said  stately 
Mrs.  Mason,  making  excuse  for  their  tardiness  when 
once  they  were  arrived.  "But,  do  you  think,  Tom  got 
so  engaged  sliding  down  hill  on  a  sled  that  every- 
thing else  slipped  his  mind!  I  told  him  I  should  tell 
you.  I  reckon  it  will  be  a  lesson  to  him.  But  you 
know,  in  Virginia,  we  haven't  such  winters  as  this. 
It  was  a  treat  for  Tom.  And  the  boys  acted  like  they 
enjoyed  it  too.  Why,  I  do  believe  the  Governor  was 
the  youngest  in  the  lot!" 

These  words  puzzled  Francois,  who  was  listening 


The  Wolverine  85 

with  ear  to  an  adjoining  door.  He  had  been  one  of 
the  boys.  In  his  eyes  Mason  was  every  inch  a  man, 
though  his  elders  did  call  him  'Tenfant-gouverneur." 

"Ah,  eet  ees  no-t'ing;  eet  ees  no-t'ing,"  returned 
their  hostess  politely.  "Eet  ees  jus'  ready  zat  we  are. 
An'  monsieur  will  conduct  madame,"  presenting  her 
husband,  L'Abbe  the  courtly.  "If  monsieur  le  gouver- 
neur  will  give  me  his  arm — now  at  once  we  will  go." 
And  so,  after  the  French  custom,  she  led  the  way  to 
the  dining-room. 

Perry  never  knew  just  how  it  was  all  brought  about. 
As  they  were  pairing  off  he  wondered  what  was  to 
become  of  him,  when  lo!  at  his  elbow  was  Marie,  who, 
with  a  smile,  placed  her  hand  within  his  arm,  and  so 
they  passed  out  with  the  others.  The  last  to  come 
was  Pierre  Beaucceur,  escorting  the  Governor's 
mother  with  grave  dignity,  the  two,  grand  and 
stately,  a  picture  for  a  master  artist. 

The  table  was  lighted  with  wax  tapers  in  tall  cande- 
labra from  over  the  seas.  Above  the  snowy  linen  glis- 
tened ancient  silver  and  polished  glass  beside  quaintly 
figured  Delft  that  had  first  seen  service  in  Normandy. 
Deep  in  the  shadow,  but  ready  to  serve  them  at  a  sig- 
nal from  madame,  stood  Tetro,  the  one  negro  slave 
belonging  to  Pierre  Beaucceur.  At  one  side  of  Perry 
sat  the  wife  of  the  Justice,  and  across  and  a  little 
farther  up  the  table,  next  to  Elva  Webber,  was  the 
venerable  Woodbridge  himself;  nearer  the  foot  were 
Zachariah  Chandler  and  young  Doctor  Houghton, 
and  between  them  radiant  Claire  Navarre.  Perry  re- 
joiced that  Chandler  was  there,  for  this  tall,  awkward, 
fair-haired,  diffident  youth  seemed  to  take  from  him 


86  The  Wolverine 

some  of  the  embarrassment  of  his  own  anomalous 
position. 

The  sepulchral  figure  of  Father  Richard  alone  re- 
mained standing  when  the  others  had  seated  them- 
selves. With  his  long  arm  he  lifted  high  a  crucifix, 
and  while  all  bowed  their  heads,  repeated  a  grace  in 
Latin,  with  deep,  musical  intonations.  .With  the  ad- 
vent of  the  viands  and  clatter  of  the  service  conversa- 
tion began,  moving  at  first  in  low  murmurs  about 
the  board,  interspersed  with  gentle  laughter,  but  all 
gaining  in  volume  with  each  succeeding  moment. 

Perry  fancied  that  Marie  scowled  when  he  turned 
his  wine-glass  down,  taking  his  cue  from  the  action 
of  Chandler,  who  happened  to  be  served  first.  The 
young  men  exchanged  glances,  and  took  courage 
of  each  other.  These  two  Puritan  Presbyterians, 
however,  had  one  other  with  them,  and,  strangely 
enough,  this  was  'Father  Richard.  Perry's  respect 
for  the  Priest  grew  apace. 

Much  formality  marked  the  conversation  at  the 
start.  Mrs.  Mason  asked  their  host  some  question 
about  the  war  of  1812,  and  the  treatment  the  English 
gave  their  prisoners.  And  while  this  last  word  was 
yet  being  handed  about,  Beaucceur  fils  suggested  the 
advantage  it  would  have  been  to  some  who  were  car- 
ried to  Montreal  at  that  time,  if  they  had  had  the 
cleverness  of  a  certain  recent  prisoner  of  his  father's. 
With  a  direct  look  at  Perry,  the  situation  became 
somewhat  embarrassing.  v 

"Mon  Dieu,"  cried  Beaucoeur  pere,  with  sudden 
delight,  "I  haf  nevair  heard  how  monsieur  made  his 
escape  from  me  house.  Will  he  pleasair  me  now?" 


The  Wolverine  87 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Major  Hadley,  "I  have  tried 
to  get  the  story  from  North  many  times,  and  he  has 
always  refused  me." 

"It  was  simple,"  replied  Perry.  "I  walked  away." 
He  was  not  a  little  confused,  however,  and  wondered 
how  he  was  to  maintain  his  secret  and  not  displease 
his  host,  if  the  old  gentleman  insisted  on  an  explana- 
tion. 

"Parbleu,  yes,"  said  Antoine;  "and  left  all  the  cords 
here — no  knots,  none  cut."  And  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  following  which  was  a  gesture  of  the  hands 
that  said:  "Miraculous;  miraculous!" 

"If  he  will  not  confess,"  offered  the  Major,  with 
spirit,  "I  suggest,  Mr.  Beaucceur,  that  he  be  bound 
again,  and  that  we  have  an  opportunity  to  watch  the 
process  by  which  he  gains  his  freedom.  He  hinted 
to  me  once  that  a  witch  interposed." 

Perry  was  alarmed  lest  Marie  take  these  words 
literally  and  in  a  bad  sense;  but  he  saw  no  way  to  help 
the  matter. 

"Nevair,"  declared  their  host.  "Eet  could  not  be! 
Ze  horseshoe  I  haf  eet  over  ze  door.  And  Pere 
Richard,  is  zere  not  holy  water  in  ze  feouse?  Ah,  no, 
no,  I  will  not  be  so  inhospita'le  to  me  guest.  I  will 
not  mek  him  prisoner  once  more." 

Then  Mrs.  Mason  came  to  the  rescue,  perceiving 
that  Madame  Beaucceur  and  Marie  were  both  anxious 
to  have  the  subject  changed. 

"Your  venison  is  the  finest  I  ever  ate,"  she  said  to 
her  hostess.  "You  did  not  buy  it  in  the  market?" 

Madame  looked  to  her  husband  for  answer,  and 


88  The  Wolverine 

so  the  matter  which  Antoine  had  so  tactlessly  intro- 
duced was  dropped. 

"Of  ze  white  Indian — what  you  call  his  name?  Ah, 
Tanner!  Eet  ees  of  him  ze  venison  has  been  bought," 
explained  Pierre  Beaucceur.  "Madame  enjoys  eet?" 
he  questioned  with  pleasure. 

"Tanner!"  repeated  Doctor  Houghton,  across  to 
Perry.  "Mr.  Schoolcraft  told  me  a  marvellous  story  of 
him.  He  comes  of  a  good  Kentucky  family.  Was 
captured  by  the  Indians  when  only  a  lad.  Has  al- 
ways lived  among  them."  . 

"They  say  he  is  going  to  settle  down  with  the 
whites  now,"  said  the  Justice's  wife,  with  the  sense 
of  adding  interest. 

"It  is  true,"  confirmed  Marie.  "Louis  Baddeau 
told  me  that  it  is  Julie  Arnault  he  is  going  to  marry. 
Julie  works  at  the  Steamboat  Hotel." 

"Once  before  have  I  eaten  venison  like  this,"  the 
Governor  had  said,  after  his  mother.  "It  was  over 
at  Pontiac  last  summer  at  the  barbecue  after  the  com- 
pletion of  Mack  and  Conant's  new  flouring  mill.  And 
by  the  way,  there  was  a  little  incident  happened  on 
the  road  back,  which  I  reckon  you  never  heard  of." 

Everyone  stopped  talking  to  hear  the  Governor's 
story. 

"There  was  a  heap  of  speech-making  appropriate 
to  the  occasion,  and,  besides  the  feasting,  we  had 
something  to  drink,"  he  began 

"Monongahela?"  questioned  the  Major. 

"I  reckon,  and  other  brands,  too,"  answered  Mason, 
inwardly  enjoying  his  story  in  advance  of  the  others. 
"And  some  of  the  boys  were  pretty  thirsty  that  day. 


The  Wolverine  89 

Well,  coming  back,  they  were  in  for  a  good  time. 
Some  dressed  up  like  Indians,  but  no  one  was  much 
scared,  excepting  a  few  school  children.  Just  back 
of  the  Indians  people  always  saw  General  Cass,  and 
everyone  knows  the  General  is  sure  medicine  for 
the  Indian.  So  all  felt  tol'ably  safe  on  seeing  him. 
But  just  before  we  reached  Royal  Oak  the  General 
and  his  party  were  detained  a  minute.  The  Gen- 
eral's horse  had  cast  a  shoe — wasn't  it  a  shoe,  Doc- 
tor?" he  asked,  turning  toward  young  Houghton, 
with  a  queer  gleam  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"I'm  not  going  to  help  the  Governor  with  this 
story,"  said  the  Doctor  to  Mason's  expectant  listen- 
ers. "And  I'm  not  going  to  deny  anything  he  says 
when  he's  through.  It  isn't  necessary.  You  all 
know  him.  Go  on  now,  you  Munchausen!" 

"Well,  Houghton  and  I  remained  behind  with  the 
General,"  continued  Mason.  "But  I  reckon  I  can  tell 
tol'ably  well  what  happened  with  the  boys  who  went 
on.  They  met  an  Irishman  with  one  of  your  French 
carts " 

"A  t'ief?"  exclaimed  Monsieur  Baddeau. 

"No.  But  the  boys  made  out  they  reckoned  he 
stole  the  cart;  and  they  told  him  they  were  going  to 
hang  him  in  the  shafts  for  a  thief.  So  the  horse  was 
taken  off  and  the  reins  were  fastened  about  Pat's  neck 
and  then  tied  to  the  shafts  at  the  end.  Well,  the  boys 
piled  into  the  cart  to  tip  it  up  a  bit  and  give  Pat  a 
great  fright'ing.  But  the  Monongahela  and  the  un- 
steady cart  were  too  much  for  their  legs,  and  all  went 
rolling  in  a  heap  near  the  tail-board.  Up  went  Pat 


90  The  Wolverine 

in  the  air;  and  there  we  found  him  when  we  of  Gen- 
eral Cass's  party  rode  up." 

"Oh!  dead,  Tom?  Not  dead?"  cried  Mrs.  Mason. 
And  all  the  ladies  looked  aghast. 

"Dead! — so  Doctor  Houghton  pronounced  him 
after  we  had  relieved  the  weight  at  the  tail  of  the 
cart,  and  let  poor  Pat's  body  to  the  ground.  'But/ 
says  the  Doctor,  'I  have  an  idear,  with  my  skill,  I 
can  put  new  life  into  him."'' 

The  ladies  smiled  at  Tom's  perfect  mimicry  of 
Houghton's  eastern  speech.  They  were  now  pretty 
sure  the  story  was  not  a  tragedy. 

"Well,  up  comes  Pat's  Canadian  wife  at  that  in- 
stant. 'Faith,'  says  she,  'make  him  a  Ninglishman,' 
says  she;  'for  I'm  tired  o'  livin'  with  a  Nirisher.'  But 
I  reckon  the  Doctor  didn't  hear.  'Tany  rate  he  pays 
no  attention  to  her.  He  just  stoops  over  and  stretches 
his  pigmy  form  along  that  giant's,  as  far  as  it  would 
go,  and  blows  new  breath  into  the  man's  body,  and 
sure  enough,  he  came  to  life — but  an  Irishman  the 
same  as  before,  to  the  mighty  disappointment  of  the 
woman.  But  'twas  a  mighty  relief  to  the  boys  who 
had  put  up  the  joke,  for  a  minute  before  they  had 
seen  prison  bars  staring  them  in  the  face." 

There  were  many  comments  on  the  Governor's 
story,  and  all  aimed  with  more  or  less  wit  at  the  little 
Doctor,  who  received  them  with  as  much  hilarity  as 
the  others.  He  had  before  now  given  more  than 
one  jolly  skit  at  the  Governor's  expense,  and  gener- 
ously allowed  him  this  moment  of  triumph.  Wood- 
bridge  had  a  story  to  tell  them,  and  after  him  Mon- 
sieur Badcleau  told  how  an  Indian  had  recognized 


The  Wolverine  91 

the  nationality  of  his  friend  Moreau  on  an  occasion, 
arguing  with  himself:  "He  Yankee  'cause  he  impo- 
lite. No,  he  French,  'cause  he  sleep  like  a  dog!" 

Some  commotion  was  caused  at  this  point  by  a 
great  cinder  which  snapped  from  the  fireplace  to  the 
table.  Luckily,  it  fell  on  one  of  the  large  platters, 
and  so  Madame  Beaucceur's  fine  linen  escaped  in- 
jury. Tetro  removed  the  smoking  ember,  and  An- 
toine,  reminded  by  the  incident,  related  an  adven- 
ture during  the  recent  visit  of  De  Tocqueville.  Wood- 
bridge  had  another  story  to  tell  of  the  time  President 
Monroe  was  the  City's  guest,  and  then  Pierre  Beau- 
cceur  proposed  a  toast — "Our  President" — which  all 
drank,  though  some  glasses  contained  but  water.  The 
Governor  praised  the  wine,  and  would  know  where 
his  host  procured  it.  Each  new  dish  had  likewise 
been  extolled  with  many  laments  that  the  cook  at  the 
American  House  was  so  far  inferior  to  monsieur's. 

"I'll  set  up  for  myself  yet,"  declared  the  Governor, 
turning  to  his  mother,  "and  bring  Mammie  Chloe  up 
here.  There's  a  nigger  for  you — and  a  cook!"  he 
added  to  Woodbridge.  "I  reckon  she  could  make 
your  mouth  water  with  a  'possum  as  good  as  this 
beaver-tail." 

The  shake  of  his  head  was  a  challenge  to  his  audi- 
tor. 

"There  might  be  some  question  about  your  hold- 
ing a  slave  here,"  said  the  judicial  Woodbridge,  with 
little  thought  of  making  the  other  angry. 

"Couldn't  hold  a  slave  here?"  cried  Mason.  "Bea- 
coeur  has  his  slave,"  with  a  nod  toward  the  white- 
haired  Tetro  who  was  serving  them.  "Pray,  why  not 


92  The  Wolverine 

I?  A  pretty  set  of  laws  you  have  in  the  Territory  if 
your  officers  aren't  allowed  to  bring  their  servants 
with  them." 

"The  Ordinance  of  1787  forbids  slavery,  but  it  al- 
lows those  who  were  under  the  English  government 
to  retain  the  slaves  they  held,  while  it  frees  the  chil- 
dren born  to  them,"  explained  the  Justice,  and  he 
would  have  gone  on  at  length  but  the  chief  executive 
interrupted  him. 

"I  reckon  I  could  free  Mammie  Chloe  and  pay 
her  wages.  There's  a  lot  of  free  niggers  here,  as  you 
say,  already.  You'd  allow  one  more,  wouldn't  you?" 
Mason  demanded  irascibly,  for  he  and  the  ancient 
tWoodbridge  were  always  clashing. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  the  Justice  blandly, 
and  there  a  troublesome  matter  was  allowed  to  drop. 

Their  host  asked  monsieur  le  gouverneur  to  pro- 
pose a  toast,  and  he  offered, — "Michigan  Territory: 
soon  to  be  the  Wolverine  State." 

This  was  drunk  standing,  after  which  Madame 
Beaucoeur  led  the  way  back  to  the  drawing-room. 


CHAPTER  X. 

NORTH  and  Chandler  walked  back  to  town 
through  the  deep  snow  together.  They  took 
the  path  which  sled  teams  had  made  down  to 
the  river,  and  thence  over  the  ice  to  Barthelet's  wharf; 
for  the  usual  road  was  not  broken  through  the  deep, 
white  drifts.  The  feeling  which  Mason  had  shown 
over  the  Negro  question  was  the  subject  of  conver- 
sation, and  this  naturally  led  to  politics.  Both  young 
men  were  Whigs,  and  so  opposed  to  the  party  in 
power — the  party  of  Jackson,  and  Cass,  and  Mason, 
and  Lyon.  But  first  of  all,  they  agreed,  they  were 
for  the  Nation,  and  the  Territory  next. 

They  separated  at  the  store  where  Chandler  was 
junior  partner,  and  had  a  bed  at  night;  and  Perry  con- 
tinued his  way  alone.  The  evening  had  been  full  of 
entertainment  for  him,  yet  he  was  not  without  a  sense 
of  disappointment.  Marie  had  not  spoken  a  dozen 
words  to  him.  Had  he  not  sat  next  to  her  at  the  table 
he  would  scarcely  feel  that  he  had  seen  her  since  the 
week  before.  However,  as  he  thought  it  all  over,  he 
seemed  to  find  reason  for  her  behavior  which  satisfied 
his  wounded  spirit. 


94  The  Wolverine 

Marie,  no  doubt,  had  felt  very  largely  the  responsi- 
bility of  their  entertainment.  As  the  eldest  daughter, 
household  cares  long  since  began  to  fall  upon  her 
shoulders;  and,  besides,  as  she  had  been  more  in  that 
newer  society  which  was  commencing  to  set  the 
fashion  in  Detroit,  it  was  natural  that  in  certain 
things  she  should  take  command.  Indeed,  Perry  had 
noticed  that  she  quietly  coached  her  mother  on  more 
than  one  occasion.  Little  versed  as  he  was  in  the 
polite  ways  of  either  English  or  French  society,  he 
recognized  a  mingling  of  customs  in  many  matters 
which  had  come  before  his  eyes  that  evening. 

Marie  had  quivered  almost  as  if  pierced  by  an  arrow 
when  her  brother  made  his  inapt  allusion  to  the  time 
of  Perry's  imprisonment  in  the  room  just  over  their 
heads.  But  from  the  moment  Mason  finished  his 
story,  the  dinner  promised  to  be  an  unqualified  suc- 
cess, and  the  burden  of  her  anxiety  seemed  to  lift. 
Perry  could  not  help  wishing  it  had  been  he  who  had 
told  that  story. 

The  fire  was  burning  brightly  in  the  sitting-room  at 
his  boarding-place  when  he  entered.  Miss  Webber, 
who  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  ride  in  the  Wood- 
bridge  sleigh,  had  reached  home  first.  Perry  found 
her  cosily  warming  herself  before  the  blazing  embers. 
A  friendly  smile,  with  a  motion  of  the  hand  toward  a 
chair,  bade  him  draw  up  and  share  in  the  welcome 
heat. 

Though  not  more  than  ten  o'clock  the  house  was 
quiet,  other  members  of  Mrs.  Holland's  family  having 
gone  to  bed.  The  conversation  between  the  two  was 
almost  entirely  about  the  recent  dinner  party,  and 


The  Wolverine  95 

many  of  the  conclusions  which  Perry  had  reached 
alone  were  now  confirmed.  Miss  Webber  was  cor- 
rectly versed  in  polite  society,  as  she  had  spent  two 
winters  in  the  first  circles  of  New  York  City.  Meet- 
ing her  daily  in  this  house  was  no  mean  education  to 
the  young  man  who  had  had  so  little  acquaintance 
with  the  world. 

Nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  those  few 
moments  listening  to  Elva  talk  of  Marie  Beaucceur. 
The  two  girls  had  known  each  other  for  years,  having 
attended  the  Young  Ladies'  Seminary  together  when 
that  institution  was  under  the  management  of  the 
Misses  Farrand,  in  the  large,  rectangular,  yellow- 
brick  building  whose  appearance  Perry  was  so  fa- 
miliar with.  Elva  seldom  had  but  praise  for  any  one, 
yet  her  words  were  unusually  warm  in  regard  to 
Marie.  She  told  many  incidents  in  which  her  friend 
had  impersonated  another,  and  the  cleverness  with 
which  Marie  was  said  to  hit  off  a  character  surprised 
Perry,  as  he  had  never  beheld  her  in  that  role. 

"She's  a  lovely  girl,  Mr.  North,"  declared  Elva,  as 
she  rose  to  go  to  her  room.  Her  words  were  a  re- 
capitulation of  all  she  had  conveyed  in  the  fifteen  min- 
utes they  had  sat  before  the  fire.  "You  may  be  ac- 
quainted with  her  a  year,  and  then  something  will 
transpire  that  will  make  you  think  you  are  only  just 
beginning  to  find  her  out." 

Perry,  left  alone,  sat  many  minutes  in  a  profound 
reverie.  Then  rousing  himself,  he  debated  whether 
he  should  go  to  the  attic  and  work  on  his  invention, 
or  remain  where  he  was  and  take  up  his  book.  Sleep 
seemed  as  far  away  that  moment  as  after  his  morn- 


96  The  Wolverine 

ing's  ablutions.  It  would  be  cold  in  the  attic,  while 
the  atmosphere  of  this  room  was  a  sensual  delight; 
thus  the  temptation  to  remain  and  read  proved  more 
than  he  could  resist.  He  took  up  his  book  and  turned 
to  the  marker,  and  it  was  after  midnight  before  he 
closed  the  covers.  The  volume  was  Hume's  Dia- 
logues on  Natural  Religion. 

At  that  hour  the  Beaucoeur  home  was  hushed  also. 
In  the  great  fireplace  a  heap  of  coals  yet  burned,  and 
the  heated  stones  at  the  back  continued  to  give  off 
comfort.  The  red  embers  softly  outlined  the  massive 
timbers  of  the  ceiling  in  their  crude  nakedness; 
touched  with  ruddy  tinge  the  long  table  pushed  to 
one  side,  and  the  chairs  put  in  order  about  the  room 
where  recently  had  been  feasting  and  gaiety.  Pres- 
ently a  face  peered  cautiously  from  the  door  at  one 
end,  followed  by  whispers  in  a  soft  French  treble. 

"The  room  is  empty,  Claire;  come  on." 

Immediately  two  white-robed  spectres  appeared  and 
glided  noiselessly  across  the  room  toward  the  glow- 
ing coals. 

"Ciel;  the  floor  it  is  like  ice  to  the  bare  feet,"  cried 
Claire. 

The  two  girls  stood  laughing  and  hugging  each 
other  in  the  excess  of  their  spirits,  trying  vainly  to 
make  no  noise  at  all. 

'"We  can  have  all  the  furs,"  declared  Marie,  shiver- 
ing from  the  cold  of  the  room  they  had  just  left. 

In  a  moment  they  had  stacked  the  floor  with  bear- 
skins and  wolf-robes,  and  were  seated  before  the  great 
chimney,  in  positions  of  perfect  comfort. 


The  Wolverine  97 

"I  am  glad  it  is  over  with,"  said  Marie,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief.  "Do  you  think  it  was  a  success,  Claire?  Tell 
me  what  you  saw,  and  what  you  think.  I  had  so 
much  to  see  to  I  do  not  know  a  thing  that  happened." 

"Ah,  it  was  a  brilliant  success.  Monsieur  le  gouver- 
neur  told  me  to  tell  you  when  we  were  all  alone,  that 
he  had  never  enjoyed  himself  before.  How  could  it 
be  otherwise  than  a  success?  Marie,  the  men  are  all 
in  love  with  you." 

"Monsieur  le  gouverneur  was  fine!"  returned 
Marie,  warmly.  "It  was  proper  that  maman  should 
go  out  to  supper  with  him.  But  I  could  wish  the 
chance  had  been  yours,  ma  chere.  But  you  shall 
have  him  when  we  go  skating  on  the  river.  Ah,  no; 
the  men  they  are  not  all  in  love  with  me.  What  think 
you  of  Mr.  North?"  she  questioned  in  English. 

"Les  cheveux  d'or?  Mon  Dieu;  he  is  so  homely. 
He  does  not  compare  with  monsieur  le  gouverneur!" 

"Ah,  but  he  is  brave.  He  will  be  laughed  at  and 
it  will  make  no  difference.  The  wine  did  you  see  he 
touched  it  not?" 

"But  I  like  not  that  kind  of  man,"  returned  the 
cousin.  "He  should  be  a  monk  and  shave  his  head." 

"  'Tis  a  pity  he  is  not  in  the  Church.  He  would  be 
one  man  after  Pere  Richard's  own  heart.  Ah,  but  one 
does  not  know  what  to  think.  He  believes  it  is  wicked 
to  dance;  but  I  made  him  dance  for  me  one  night  on 
the  river  bank." 

"It  is  because  he  is  in  love  with  you,  Marie.  I  said 
all  the  men  are  in  love  with  you." 

"Ah,  he  is  not.     I  am  a  Catholic,"  explained  Marie, 


98  The  Wolverine 

very  confident,  though  she  sighed  a  little,  a  fact  that 
escaped  her  cousin. 

Then  for  a  time  no  words  were  spoken.  The  heat 
grew  uncomfortable  on  their  faces,  while  their  backs 
were  cold;  so  Marie  brought  more  furs  for  their  shoul- 
ders and  copies  of  the  Gazette  to  hold  for  screens  be- 
fore their  eyes.  Claire  read  some  lines  from  the  paral- 
lel columns  of  English  and  French,  as  Marie's  head 
was  pillowed  against  her  knee.  Marie  played  idly  with 
the  long  plaits  of  hair  which  fell  from  her  cousin's 
head,  and  looked  dreamily  into  the  fire. 

"Louise  La  Sage  is  to  marry  Jean  Baddeau  in  the 
spring,"  said  Marie,  after  a  time.  "It  has  all  been 
arranged  by  their  parents." 

"Mon  Dieu;  the  parents  shall  not  arrange  my  wed- 
ding," declared  Claire  Navarre  with  spirit.  "I  like  the 
American  way,  and  I  can  choose  my  own  husband 
without  help.  Is  it  not  so,  Marie?" 

"Our  father  likes  many  of  the  American  ways," 
said  Marie,  with  a  judicious  air.  "And  he  will  not 
object  to  whom  I  marry,  if  he  be  a  good  man.  I  think 
he  would  be  willing  for  me  to  marry  out  of  the 
Church.  But  I  will  never,  never  marry  a  heretic!  I 
will  marry  Etienne  Baddeau  in  the  spring,  and  have 
done  with  it!" 

Marie  had  started  up  in  some  passion.  Claire  did 
not  understand  the  motive  prompting  this  action. 
Catching  her  gown,  which  had  fallen  away  at  the 
throat,  the  cousin  made  another  quick  movement  that 
covered  her  bare  feet  before  the  fire.  "Did  you  hear 
someone?"  she  whispered,  prepared  to  fly  at  a  sec- 
ond alarm. 


The  Wolverine  99 

"Mon  pere — it  is  his  heavy  breathing,"  Marie  said, 
and  resumed  her  place  against  her  cousin's  knee. 

"Has  Etienne  asked  you  again  to  be  his  wife?" 
questioned  Claire. 

"I  have  not  seen  him  since  last  summer.  But  he 
will  be  here  again  in  the  spring.  And  he  asks  me 
every  time  he  comes." 

"But  you  do  not  love  him!" 

"Love,  love,  love!  I  hear  nothing  but  that  from 
you.  Love  it  is  not  everything,  you  silly  child!" 

"Marie!  I  do  not  understand  you.  Yesterday  you 
said  just  the  contrary.  Is  it  acting  that  you  always 
are?" 

"Yesterday  I  was  a  fool.  No;  to-night  I  am  a  fool. 
Ah,  I  have  worked  hard  to-day — that  is  why  I  am 
cross  to  you,  ma  chere."  And  she  drew  closer  and 
put  her  arms  around  her  cousin's  neck,  burying  her 
cheek  on  the  shoulder  where  it  was  bare.  "Let's 
don't  say  anything.  Only  just  look  at  the  fire." 

Five  minutes  ticked  away. 

There  was  just  a  murmur  in  Marie's  throat,  as  if 
she  might  be  laughing  in  her  sleep.  But  she  was  wide 
awake.  Without  moving  her  head,  she  pointed  where 
some  coals  had  newly  parted  and  fallen  away. 

"That  is  just  the  color  of  monsieur's  hair,"  she  said, 
with  a  little  whimsical  note  in  her  words. 

"Monsieur  North's?  When  did  he  come  to  Detroit? 
You  never  told  me  of  him  at  home  last  summer.  And 
you  know  him  well.  Do  you  remember  you  were 
going  to  tell  me  of  the  time  you  went  to  Mere 
Gobielle's  with  him?" 

"It  was  in  the  early  summer  that  he  came.    Fran- 


ioo  The  Wolverine 

gois  can  tell  you  all.  He  is  his  friend.  Ah,  I  do  not  re- 
member. What  was  I  going  to  tell?  Why,  we  went 
there — to  Mere  Gobielle's.  It  was  in  the  night." 

Qaire  waited  for  her  to  go  on. 

Marie  sat  up  and  stared  into  the  fire.  "I  wish  I 
could  make  up  my  mind  and  stick  to  one  thing!" 

"I  wish  so  too,"  declared  her  impatient  cousin. 

"You  silly  goose,"  exclaimed  Marie,  kissing  her  im- 
pulsively. "Don't  you  know  what  I  mean?  I'm  as 
warm  as  toast.  And  I  mean  to  go  to  bed!" 

Springing  to  her  feet,  she  flew  to  the  door  through 
which  they  had  entered  the  room. 

"I'll  tell  you  about  that  another  time,"  she  called 
back. 

Claire  followed,  wondering  at  her  cousin's  incom- 
prehensible actions.  And  only  the  fire  remained  to 
give  life  to  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

DAY  was  not  long  enough  for  all  the  sports  of 
the  merry  winter  season.  Over  against  the 
dark  outlines  of  what  we  now  call  Belle  Isle,  but 
which  then  had  no  such  musical  name,  a  huge  bonfire 
shot  red  and  yellow  flames  into  the  night.  All  up  and 
down  the  ice  rang  the  shouts  of  a  happy  throng. 
Heavily-mufflered,  steel-shod  men  and  boys  darted 
hither  and  thither.  Occasionally  there  was  one  with 
a  rosy-cheeked,  fur-clad  companion  whose  skirts  the 
wind  tugged  at  as  if  to  snatch  jealously  from  a  rival. 
Strong  arms  drew  hand-sleds  here,  while  there  flashed 
the  sturdy  Canadian  pony  before  the  French  traineau; 
and  accompanying  all  were  the  high  spirits  that 
caused  the  air  to  resound  with  laughter  and  cries 
of  merriment. 

To  join  this  revelry,  down  the  right  bank  of  the 
river  came  a  party  of  four,  picking  their  way  along 
the  road  broken  out  by  the  passage  of  many  a  traineau 
en  route  to  the  ice.  On  either  side  the  snow,  crimson 
in  the  firelight,  rose  in  walls  to  the  waist;  but  when 
once  the  river  was  reached,  there  the  strong  winds 
from  the  west  had  swept  clear  the  glassy  surface.  The 


io2  The  Wolverine 

experienced  eye  of  the  foremost  of  the  party  searched 
the  spot  for  a  place  to  sit  while  skates  were  being 
donned. 

"Here,  Frangois/'  he  cried,  in  a  commanding  bass, 
as  in  the  lurid  light,  a  figure  shot  by  prone  upon  the 
ice.  "Lend  me  your  sled  a  minute,  please.  There  is 
no  place  for  the  ladies  to  sit  while  we  fasten  on  their 
skates." 

"Ah,  Meester  North !"  said  the  boy  by  way  of  greet- 
ing, as  he  came  and  peered  into  faces  to  discover  all 
of  the  party.  "Marie!"  he  enumerated,  and  there  was 
a  word  for  his  cousin.  "Glairy  ees  eet  that  you  call 
ze  eece,  eh?  monsieur  le  gouverneur!"  But  what  was 
meant  as  a  question  ended  in  an  exclamation,  for  his 
feet  slipped  and  he  sat  unceremoniously  on  the  frozen 
river,  to  the  inconsiderate  amusement  of  the  new- 
comers. "By  gar!"  was  his  droll  comment. 

"Are  these  rights  and  lefts?"  asked  Mason,  as  he 
knelt  with  skates  before  Claire,  following  the  example 
of  Perry  before  Marie. 

The  Governor  could  lead  a  cotillion  on  the  ball- 
room floor  with  the  utmost  skill,  but  his  Virginia 
training  had  not  imparted  the  secrets  of  a  northern 
winter's  sport. 

"Let's  see — that's  right,"  said  Perry,  as  he  sus- 
pended work  about  the  shapely  ankle  which  his  own 
thumb  and  finger  encircled;  "and  this  strap  goes 
around  there,  and  buckles  here.  See — like  this."  But 
before  His  Excellency  had  finished  with  one  skate, 
Perry  had  fastened  on  his  own  and  Marie's,  and  then 
turned  to  assist  the  others. 

The  Governor  made  a  sorry  spectacle  on  the  ice, 


The  Wolverine  103 

and  Perry  felt  indeed  this  was  his  hour.  Claire  could 
not  boast  of  her  partner  here  as  she  had  in  the  waltz, 
and  Marie  openly  laughed  in  a  way  that  made  Perry's 
heart  soften  toward  the  one  of  whom  he  was  oftener 
jealous.  It  was,  however,  only  with  womanly  tact 
that  Marie  had  divided  the  four  into  couples,  and 
given  to  Claire  the  man  of  her  choice.  Perry  offered 
Mason  a  few  simple  suggestions  that  were  of  much 
help,  and  his  pupil  gave  promise  of  rare  aptitude. 

"If  monsieur  le  gouverneur  will  sit  on  me  sled,  I 
will  draw  him,"  said  Francois  generously,  as  they 
moved  slowly  across  the  ice  in  the  direction  of  the 
blazing  brushwood. 

"Ah,  thanks!"  returned  Mason  with  grim  sarcasm, 
while  the  others  laughed.  "Can  one  learn  to  skate 
by  sitting  on  a  sled?" 

"Ah,  but  he  gets  ze  ride — bully  fun!"  answered 
Fran9ois,  giving  his  sled  a  jerk  that  sent  it  danger- 
ously near  the  Governor's  uncertain  footing. 

"Thunder!  young  man,  are  you  going  to  run  that 
into  me?"  His  Excellency  cried,  aghast  at  the  threat- 
ened catastrophe. 

"Run  away,  Frangois,  now,  with  the  sled,"  com- 
manded his  sister.  "You  bother  monsieur  le  gouver- 
neur!" 

"Eh  bien,  if  monsieur  will  take  one  end  of  this," 
said  Claire,  offering  him  a  scarf,  "I  will  draw  him. 
Put  the  feet  close  together,  and  keep  them  so." 

"That  is  good  exercise  for  the  ankles,  Governor," 
said  Perry,  encouragingly.  "You'll  do  nicely  in  a 
short  time." 

Claire  was  perfectly  at  home  on  skates,  and  soon 


104  The  Wolverine 

had  Mason  flying  after  her  at  a  rate  that  made  him 
shudder  whenever  another  passed  near  them.  Perry 
and  Marie  joined  hands  and  followed  with  easy,  grace- 
ful strides,  gliding  in  such  perfect  unison  that  it  was 
as  if  one  body  swept  forward.  Neither  spoke  for 
several  minutes.  This  was  the  first  time  they  had 
ever  skated  together,  and  it  seemed  that  by  tacit  un- 
derstanding each  would  show  the  other  what  the 
one  was  capable  of  performing.  Others  on  the  ice 
came  between  the  two  couples,  and  track  was  lost 
of  Mason  and  Claire  for  a  time.  So  pleased  were 
Perry  and  Marie  with  their  performance  that  they 
continued  on  by  the  snapping,  roaring  flames,  giving 
them  and  the  lurid  figures  standing  about  but  a  glance 
as  they  passed.  Into  the  darkness  beyond  they 
glided,  bearing  swiftly  upon  their  shadow,  which 
stretched  away  before  them,  the  one  grotesque  thing 
in  all  their  movements. 

"I  have  never  skated  with  a  woman  who  was  your 
equal,  Miss  Beaucceur,"  said  Perry  with  unfeigned 
admiration,  when  at  last  they  paused,  far  up  the  river. 

"Ah,  'tis  pretty  thing  number  two  you  have  said," 
she  replied,  with  evident  pleasure.  "But  you  skate, 
too,  Mr.  North,"  she  added,  in  a  way  that  returned 
his  compliment.  "Do  you  know  the  fancy  skating? 
Figures?" 

"Yes,  a  few,"  answered  Perry,  and  forthwith  com- 
menced a  series  of  movements,  now  forward,  now 
backward,  swinging  now  on  heel,  now  on  toe,  cutting 
circles  here  and  scallops  there,  doing  all  with  the 
swiftness  and  grace  of  a  swallow  in  the  air. 


The  Wolverine  105 

"Ah,  you  can  do  that  and  yet  cannot  dance!"  she 
marvelled. 

"Dance!  it  should  not  be  spoken  of  in  the  same 
breath.  This  is  far,  far  ahead  of  any  dance." 

"But  one  cannot  have  this  all  the  time.  I  know 
you  think  to  dance  it  is  wicked.  To  me  it  is  only 
another  pleasure.  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"Didn't  I  tell  ydu  once  we  should  never  understand 
each  other?" 

"Yes.  And  is  that  the  end?  Have  you  no  wish  to 
try?  It  is  not  friendly." 

Marie  pleading  for  his  friendship!  Was  it  any 
wonder  he  was  speechless?  There  were  more  ma- 
noeuvres on  the  ice,  but  Perry's  mind  took  no  con- 
scious part.  "I  think  it  is  the  difference  of  educa- 
tion," he  answered  with  considerable  abstraction. 
"Shall  we  skate  back?"  He  held  his  hands  toward 
her,  and  she  took  them  both;  and  so,  he  moving 
backward,  they  retraced  their  path.  "I  certainly  wish 
to  be  friendly,"  he  continued.  "You  little  understand 
what  is  in  my  heart,  or  you  would  not  say  that." 

Perry  might  have  said  the  same  to  himself,  and  he 
was  beginning  to  realize  it.  Little  did  he  know  what 
was  in  his  heart.  Once  he  would  point  out  errors 
in  her  life,  as  a  duty,  even  though  they  quarrelled  and 
afterward  separated.  Now  the  moment  had  come 
when  he  might  do  so  again,  but  the  impulse  lagged, 
his  voice  halted;  there  seemed  a  loss  of  ideas.  What 
had  become  of  his  former  proselyting  fervor? 

The  blazing  fire  at  his  back  lighted  up  Marie's  face, 
revealing  all  its  marvellous  beauty.  There  was  the 
liquid  depths  of  her  eyes,  so  black  that  night's  darkest 


106  The  Wolverine 

spot  seemed  gray  in  contrast;  there  was  the  perfect 
curve  of  her  cheek,  with  its  rich  coloring,  against 
which  the  deep,  soft  fur  of  her  collar  played  with  rav- 
ishing effect;  there  were  her  lips,  full  and  rosy,  set 
lightly  together  in  lines  Cupid  might  have  stolen  for  a 
bow — and  this  was  all  his,  his  alone  so  long  as  these 
moments  could  be  made  to  last!  Somewhere  else 
there  were  dogmas,  it  is  true;  dogmas  which  he  had 
built  upon  for  a  score  of  years.  But  men,  high  in  the 
world's  estimation,  had  differed  about  these  dogmas, 
and  what  was  an  ordinary  man  to  say? 

"I  have  been  taught  that  to  dance  is  wrong,"  was 
what  Perry  said.  "I  perhaps  would  not  teach  it  so, 
arbitrarily,  to  another.  But  I  shall  not  learn  myself. 
There  are  things  which  seem,  and  possibly  are,  inno- 
cent in  a  degree,  yet  lead  to  sin.  I  find  there  are  two 
sides  to  'most  every  question." 

Perry  felt  himself  expand  with  such  fair-minded- 
ness. 

"But  I  do  not  see,"  began  Marie.  "The  dance  it 
may  lead  to  sin.  But  skating  it  can  not!" 

"I  did  not  say  that." 

"But  no — you  skate!" 

And  so  they  argued  for  a  time.  Their  tones  were 
not  antagonistic.  Rather  was  there  a  friendly  banter- 
ing of  words.  The  vital  thing  was  their  companion- 
ship, and  that  grew  while  dogmas  became  like  dried 
leaves  with  which  children  play.  Yet  could  it  be  said, 
though  heavy  blows  had  been  dealt,  neither  had  sur- 
rendered his  past. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

BEFORE  they  re-entered  the  throng  about  the 
fire,  Perry  turned  around,  lest  he  skate  into 
someone,    and    they    continued    side    by    side 
through  the  thickest  of  the  crowd. 

"I  did  not  see  Mason  or  your  cousin,"  he  said. 

"No/' — neither  had  she. 

He  threw  himself  before  her  and  would  resume  the 
position  they  had  abandoned  in  the  noisy  multitude. 
,,"Ah,  it  is  my  turn,"  she  declared,  and  with  a  skilful 
manoeuvre  swung  about  so  she  was  the  one  to  skate 
backward. 

"Can  you  do  that?"  he  asked. 

"Can  I  not?"  she  returned,  with  a  saucy  uplift  of 
the  head. 

The  light  was  once  more  in  her  face,  and  he  saw 
her  beauty  again,  and  with  it  a  determination  to  prove 
her  skill.  He  increased  his  speed  and  she  met  the  im- 
pulse with  a  smile.  He  glanced  over  her  head  to  see 
that  the  way  was  clear,  and  exerted  more  of  his  enor- 
mous strength.  Like  the  wind  they  sped  down  the 
river.  His  hands  clasped  her  arms  firmly  near  the 
shoulder.  Her  breath  was  on  his  cheek.  He  felt 


io8  The  Wolverine 

those  shoulders  shrug  with  pleasure;  the  light  in  her 
eyes  invited  him  to  put  forth  all  his  strength.  For  a 
single  moment  he  yielded  to  the  temptation;  it  seemed 
as  if  they  were  flying.  Beneath  them  the  ice  appeared 
to  rush  in  the  opposite  direction  in  ribbons  of  blue  and 
gray  and  pink  and  purple  as  flames  from  the  fire  fell 
on  the  scene.  Suddenly  Perry  drew  her  close  against 
his  breast,  and  his  feet  ceased  their  mighty  strides, 
while  his  skates  cut  deep  furrows  in  the  ice  to  block 
their  progress. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  taking  alarm  from  his 
manner. 

"Madness!"  he  cried.  "What  if  I  had  pushed  you 
against  some  pebble  in  the  ice,  a  twig  from  a  tree,  or 
your  skate  had  come  loose!" 

"Ah,  but  you  didn't,"  she  answered,  with  complete 
abandonment.  "Nothing  happened."  And  she 
breathed  deeply,  freeing  herself  from  his  arms  as  they 
came  to  a  standstill.  "It  was  glorious!  Oh,  it  was 
glorious!" 

"It  was  sheer  madness,"  he  protested,  fairly  trem- 
bling as  in  imagination  he  re-enacted  their  reckless 
flight.  Yet  it  was  nothing  more  than  he  had  com- 
monly done  with  some  male  companion. 

"Ciel!  where  have  we  come  to?"  she  demanded, 
looking  about  in  surprise,  as  she  recovered  herself. 
"We  are  far  below  the  town!  This  is  it  not  the  Canada 
shore?" 

"Indeed  it  is,"  Perry  answered. 

"Ah,  grand'mere's  it  can  not  be  far  from  here! 
Above  that  point,  I  am  certain.  I  have  not  been  to 


The  Wolverine  109 

visit  her  this  week.  Would  it  be  too  much  trouble?" 
And  she  looked  at  him  and  down  at  her  skates. 

Without  speaking  a  word,  she  seemed  to  say  more 
than  Perry  had  ever  dreamed  could  be  so  commu- 
nicated. His  impression  was  a  compound  of  all  this: 
"It  is  cruel  to  ask  you  to  take  off  these  skates.  The 
straps  are  frozen.  You  will  have  to  kneel  on  the  cold 
ice.  But  you  have  always  been  so  kind  to  me.  No 
man  ever  was  so  kind  to  me.  And  then  they  will  have 
to  be  put  on  again.  And  the  straps  will  be  wet.  And 
you  will  have  to  kneel  on  the  ice  again.  Oh,  it  is  an 
awful  bother!  But  will  you  do  it  for  me?"  He  was  a 
slave  to  that  glance. 

"The  trouble  will  be  nothing  if  I  may  go  too,"  he 
said,  with  much  earnestness. 

"Ah,  I  did  not  know  you  cared  to  see  grand'mere. 
You  have  never  inquired.  But  I  did  not  mean  to  leave 
you  behind.  There  is  a  path — we  may  skate  to  that." 

Her  talk  ran  on  merrily  while  he  removed  the  skates. 
She  dropped  into  a  whimsical  manner  which  sat  upon 
her  with  the  same  charm  that  possessed  all  her  moods. 
She  pouted  when  he  was  slow  in  offering  his  hand 
along  the  icy  path  that  led  up  the  bank,  and  when  she 
called  him  stupid — even  then  he  found  pleasure  in 
the  words,  coming  from  the  same  pursed  lips. 

"A  merry  surprise,  grand'mere!"  cried  Marie  in 
French,  as  they  burst  into  the  winter-bound  hut.  "Ah, 
but  it  is  nice  and  warm  in  here!"  And  she  placed  her 
hands  near  the  blazing  fire  before  going  to  kiss  the 
old  dame  on  her  cheek. 

"Ah,  my  children!"  returned  grand'mere,  with  plea- 


no  The  Wolverine 

sure.     "I  have  not  seen  monsieur  for  a  long,  long 
time.     This  is  a  merry  surprise!" 

"Monsieur  has  been  away  from  Detroit!"  explained 
Marie.  "He  has  only  recently  returned.  He  begged 
me  to  bring  him  to  madame." 

Through  the  shrunken  lips  and  toothless  gums 
came  a  flood  of  words. 

"Madame  thinks  you  might  have  left  some  snow 
out  of  doors,  and  not  brought  it  all  in  here  to  melt  on 
her  floor!"  said  Marie,  assuming  her  old  role  of  in- 
terpreter and  prank-player  in  general. 

Perry  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  The  path  had  been 
narrow,  and  instead  of  following  Marie,  he  had  kept 
at  her  side  through  the  deep  drifts.  Indeed,  he  had 
brought  in  much  snow,  but  madame  had  made  no  al- 
lusion to  it  whatever. 

In  fairly  good  French  Perry  replied:  "I  heard  what 
madame  said.  Her  gown  is  good  enough  to  receive 
a  better  man  than  I.  She  need  make  no  excuse."  But 
he  looked  at  Marie  in  a  way  to  make  her  quail. 

"Eh  bien,  if  you  know  the  French,  Mr.  North/' 
answered  mademoiselle,  struggling  with  her  astonish- 
ment. Then  to  grand'mere  she  said:  "Monsieur  has 
acquired  the  French  that  he  may  speak  directly  to 
madame.  He  will  not  trust  me  more  to  pay  his  com- 
pliments." 

"Monsieur  speaks  very  good  French,"  returned 
grand'mere;  and  forthwith  there  were  recalled  days 
when  she  was  a  demoiselle.  "I  must  congratulate 
monsieur.  Ah,  it  is  a  fine  language.  It  is  a  language 
to  love.  It  is  the  language  of  the  heart.  Those  were 
the  words  Marquis  de  Vaudreuil  said  to  me  as  we 


The  Wolverine  1 1 1 

danced  at  the  maison  de  ville  in  Quebec.  Ah,  those 
were  grand  times!  And  grand  man  was  the  Marquis!" 

"Some  time  I  will  bring  monsieur  here,  and  you 
shall  tell  him  all  about  those  days,"  promised  Marie, 
"But  to-night  we  cannot  stay.  Did  Francois  bring 
madame  the  basket  of  things  this  morning?" 

"Ah,  yes;  thanks,  ma  cherie.  It  is  kind  of  monsieur 
your  father  to  remember  a  poor  lone  woman.  I  pray 
to  the  Saints  daily  for  him!" 

"And  does  Pierre  Coutelier  bring  you  wood  and 
water  every  morning?  If  he  does  not  my  father  will 
be  angry  with  him,  and  give  the  pay  to  another  man 
who  will  do  the  work." 

"Ah,  Pierre  Coutelier  is  very  good.  He  helps  me 
very  much.  And  I  thank  monsieur  your  father;  and 
daily  I  pray  the  Saints." 

Perry  was  holding  the  skates  before  the  fire,  remov- 
ing the  ice  from  their  straps,  while  the  talk  went  on, 
By  and  by  grand'mere  cast  a  glance  toward  his  broad 
back.  "Etienne  Baddeau  is  away  with  the  trappers," 
she  said  to  Marie,  and  there  was  a  note  of  significance 
in  her  tones  that  did  not  escape  the  girl. 

"Ah,  yes;  he  has  a  hundred  men  trapping  for  him 
beyond  the  Ouisconsin.  He  will  return  in  the  spring 
— and — and  then — /  shall  make  him  very  happy!" 
Her  words  ended  in  a  breath  close  to  grand'mere's 
ear,  as  she  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"Ma  cherie,  these  eyes  tell  me  a  different  story!" 
said  the  old  dame,  and  again  she  looked  toward 
Perry. 

"Ah,  but  we  must  go  now,"  cried  Marie,  springing 


ii2  The  Wolverine 

to  her  feet.    "I  am  quite  warm.    Are  you  not  warm, 
Mr.  North?"  she  asked  in  English. 

After  they  returned  to  the  ice,  Marie  was  very 
quiet.  Perry  thought  it  was  because  of  the  rebuke 
he  had  given  her  for  trying  to  deceive  him.  Believing 
his  indignation  only  just,  he  would  say  nothing  to 
conciliate  her  now.  They  went  at  once  in  search  of 
Mason  and  Claire,  but  it  was  some  time  before  they 
found  them  among  the  scores  of  people  constantly 
moving  over  the  ice.  At  last  when  Marie  was  about 
to  declare  they  had  gone  home,  she  discovered  hef 
cousin  in  a  traineau  coming  swiftly  toward  them. 

"Ah,  Claire,"  she  called,  loudly,  waving  her  hand; 
and  in  a  moment  they  were  all  reunited. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  both  couples  exclaimed  in 
a  breath,  and  then  laughed  at  the  collision  their  words 
had  made. 

"Monsieur  le  gouverneur  grew  tired  of  the  skates, 
and  would  have  a  traineau,"  explained  Claire.  "Every- 
where we  have  looked  for  you!  And  not  finding  you 
we  drove  almost  up  to  the  lake." 

"Have  you  seen  Major  Hadley?"  inquired  the  Gov 
ernor.  "He  is  looking  for  you.  We  are  going  to 
have  a  little  spread  at  the  Franklin.  Oysters!  And 
you  must  join  us.  Here  he  comes  now."  Another 
traineau  with  jangling  bells  came  speeding  to  the 
spot. 

"Ah, I  have  seen  everyone  to-night!"  declared  Claire 

with  happy  excitement.       "The  officers  from  Fort 

Maiden — have  you  seen  them,  ma  cousine?   There  can 

be  no  one  at  home  anywhere!    All  are  here!" 

"Why,  Tom,  have  you  really  found  them?"  cried 


The  Wolverine  113 

the  Governor's  sister,  with  fine  sarcasm.  "Do  think, 
Major  Hadley, — he  has  found  them!  But  on  my 
word,  he  found  the  lake  first!" 

"But  no — we  found  them!"  interjected  Marie. 

Presently,  with  high  spirits  the  party  moved  off 
toward  the  town,  Marie  and  Perry  skating  by  the  side 
of  the  sleighs. 

The  Franklin  was  one  of  the  best  eating-houses  in 
Detroit  that  winter.  In  the  parlors  they  found  a  dozen 
others  waiting  their  coming,  among  them  being  two 
red-coats  from  the  neighboring  British  garrison,  one 
of  whom  was  Colonel  Campbell,  and  with  him  was 
Elva  Webber.  Couples  were  broken  up  in  the  gay 
discussion  of  sports,  balls,  and  entertainments,  while 
waiting  the  preparation  of  their  lunch.  Major  Had- 
ley was  active  in  interviewing  certain  ones  in  regard 
to  some  amateur  theatricals  before  the  winter  was 
over;  he  suggested  that  they  produce  The  Merchant 
of  Venice  for  the  benefit  of  the  hospital  which  Ste. 
Anne's  was  struggling  to  maintain. 

Then  the  waiter  entered  and  facetiously  announced : 
"Lunch  is  served.  Gents,  secure  your  pardners!" 

Mason  was  standing  near  Marie,  and  quickly  seized 
his  advantage.  "May  I  have  the  honor,  Miss  Beau- 
coeur?"  And  he  offered  his  arm.  Marie  shot  a 
glance  toward  Perry.  She  was  willing  to  punish 
him  for  spoiling  her  joke  at  grand'mere's.  There  was 
no  hiding  his  disappointment,  though  he  struggled 
against  it.  The  Governor  and  Marie  led  out  the  party, 
and  North  and  Claire  brought  up  the  rear,  neither  in 
a  very  entertaining  mood. 

Nor  did  matters  improve  any  when  the  ladies  were 


ii4  The  Wolverine 

escorted  home.  "Miss  Beaucceur,  you  will  ride  with 
your  cousin  and  me  in  the  traineau,"  said  Mason,  as 
they  were  breaking  up.  "It  is  too  far  to  walk/' 

"Ah,  thank  you/'  she  answered,  her  manner  an 
acceptance;  but  looking  around  the  room  for  Perry, 
she  added:  "It  would  be  too  bad  for  monsieur  le 
gouverneur  to  return  afterward  alone.  Mr.  North, 
won't  you  ride  out  with  us?" 

"Ah,  will  it  carry  so  many?"  asked  Claire;  and  in 
the  same  breath  Perry  had  said:  "I  shall  be  happy 
to."  He  thought  he  recognized  on  Marie's  part 
repentance  and  a  willingness  to  make  amends. 

"I  fear  the  traineau  is  too  small,"  the  Governor 
answered  to  Claire's  words.  By  this  time  all  were  in 
the  street  where  the  Canadian  pony  and  French  sleigh 
were  waiting. 

"Monsieur  le  gouverneur — not  if  I  sit  on  your  lap?" 
asked  Marie.  "Ah,  Claire,  you  know  we  have  ridden 
so  many  times.  Mr.  North,  you  do  not  object  to 
holding  my  cousin?  The  distance  it  is  but  short." 

It  was  not  to  Perry's  liking.  He  felt  there  was 
something  coarse,  something  rather  common,  almost 
vulgar  about  the  proceedings.  Perhaps  such  thoughts 
had  never  entered  his  head  had  he  been  in  the  Gov- 
ernor's place.  Perhaps  he  was  meanly  jealous;  if  so, 
such  feelings  should  be  conquered.  Finally — Marie 
and  vulgarity?  It  was  impossible! 

Marie  held  the  reins,  and,  besides  being  quite  hys- 
terical in  her  merriment,  was  almost  reckless  in  her 
driving.  At  the  Beaucceur  home  it  was  found  that 
her  skates  had  been  left  behind.  Mason  quickly  prom- 
ised to  bring  them  to  her  next  day.  Perry  assumed 
the  blame  of  forgetting  them,  and  begged  excuses. 


The  Wolverine  115 

"If  you  are  really  sorry,"  said  Marie,  as  they  parted, 
"make  it  evident  by  returning  them  to  me,  and  do  not 
let  monsieur  le  gouverneur  be  bothered." 

Mason  protested  that  it  would  be  no  bother,  and 
silently  resolved  to  be  the  one  to  return  them.  But 
Perry  alighted  from  the  traineau  at  the  Council  House, 
and  instead  of  going  up  the  street  to  his  boarding 
place  after  the  Governor  passed  on  alone,  walked 
directly  to  the  Franklin  and  secured  the  skates,  which 
he  carried  to  his  rooms  that  night. 

Usually,  before  going  to  bed,  he  read  an  hour  or 
two,  however  late  it  was;  but  to-night  his  mind  was 
in  no  condition  for  books.  There  seemed  something 
irritable  in  the  very  sight  of  Spinoza's  Life,  which  lay 
open  on  his  table,  and  closing  it  impatiently,  he  sat 
long  in  a  moody  silence.  Miserable  company  as  his 
thoughts  were,  he  would  not  go  below  stairs  where 
he  might  have  a  few  minutes  with  Elva  Webber.  Her 
delightful  wit  always  threw  a  rainbow  across  any  dark 
cloud.  Nor  would  he  go  again  to  the  attic  where  he 
had  spent  a  hard  day,  puzzling  over  the  problems  of 
his  solar  compass.  As  the  moments  passed,  however, 
and  he  grew  warm  before  the  fire,  the  expression 
softened  between  his  brows,  and  by  the  time  he  fell 
asleep  a  smile  had  impressed  itself  on  his  face. 

He  had  hung  Marie's  skates  where  they  would  dry 
without  rusting;  and  they  had  received  a  second,  last 
attention  before  he  blew  out  his  candle.  Their  pres- 
ence imparted  to  his  room  an  atmosphere  it  never 
before  contained,  hard  to  define,  but  exquisitely  sweet 
and  delicate. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DETROIT  had  been  three  full  weeks  without  its 
mails.  On  hearing  Doctor  Houghton  chafe 
impatiently  because  of  such  isolation,  Justice 
Woodbridge  recounted  entire  winters  when  they 
scarcely  heard  a  word  from  the  outside  world.  That, 
the  young  Doctor  reminded  him,  was  long  ago,  and 
very  poor  consolation.  The  Government  had  taught 
one  to  expect  better  things  since  it  had  given  them 
mails  every  day  the  past  summer.  And  even  after 
navigation  closed,  there  had  been  no  greater  break 
than  a  week  till  now. 

At  noon  on  the  twenty-first  day,  however,  Baron 
Le  Borgne's  bugle  was  heard  in  cheerful  notes,  and 
at  once  Postmaster  Abbott's  little  store  on  the  corner 
became  the  most  popular  place  in  town. 

Two  negroes  were  the  first  to  reach  the  scene. 
They  were  quickly  joined  by  Jean  Chapeau,  wearing 
his  cobbler's  apron,  followed  by  a  group  of  boys  trail- 
ing their  sleds  from  the  coasting-place  near  the  river. 
At  least  a  dozen  were  gathered  in  advance,  to  wel- 
come Le  Borgne  with  shouts  and  jeers,  watch  him 
throw  the  pouch  dexterously  from  the  coach  roof, 


The  Wolverine  117 

wheel  his  four  spirited  horses  about,  and  dash  off 
gallantly  to  the  hotels,  giving  repeated  cracks  with 
his  long,  black  whip.  From  that  moment  people  kept 
coming  all  day,  but  the  crowd  was  greatest  at  the  time 
the  postmaster  began  to  distribute  his  favors,  a  half- 
hour  after  the  mail's  arrival.  Then  the  walls  were 
pretty  well  lined  with  men  in  all  manner  of  winter 
apparel,  while  groups  similarly  composed  stood  about 
the  centre  of  the  room.  All  started  as  with  an  electric 
shock,  when,  at  last,  the  little  slide  rose  in  the  glass- 
fronted  pigeon-holes. 

In  that  half-hour  Pierre  Beaucceur  walked  about 
the  room,  dispensing  his  courtly  bows  and  pleasant 
"bonjour."  His  heavy  fur  great-coat  gapping  its  length 
revealed  his  dressy  black  and  immaculate  linen.  Gov- 
ernor Mason  mingled  democratically  with  the  throng, 
and  told  some  good  stories.  General  Brady  and  an 
army  friend  dropped  in.  Major  Hadley  was  there, 
and  when  North  and  Chandler  entered  together, 
pounced  upon  his  surveyor  friend  as  one  lying  in  wait. 

"I  was  coming  up  to  your  boarding-place  to  see 
you  if  I  didn't  find  you  here,"  he  said,  strengthening 
the  petition  he  was  about  to  make  with  the  premedita- 
tion it  had  received.  His  manner  was  warm  and  eager, 
and  his  words  contained  a  subtle  diplomacy.  "You 
have  heard  something  of  the  talk  of  a  play  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Hospital?" 

"Only  what  you  said  at  the  Franklin  two  weeks 
ago." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I've  done.  I've  been 
pushing  it  in  a  quiet  way.  You'll  agree  that  it's  in 
a  good  cause?" 


n8  The  Wolverine 

"Yes,"  said  Perry,  but  his  reply  lacked  enthusiasm. 

"You  Presbyterians  don't  always  harness  up  well 
with  the  Catholics,  and  I  wanted  to  know  how  you 
stood  before  going  any  farther." 

"And  they're  generally  down  on  the  theatre,  too," 
put  in  young  Woodworth  of  the  Steamboat  Hotel, 
who  was  standing  near. 

Perry  ignored  his  remark,  but  to  the  Major  he 
said:  "I  don't  know  why  you  say  that.  Reverend 
John  Montieth  and  Father  Richard  have  long  worked 
together,  teaching  in  the  College  here.  And  what 
they  do,  I  think  Presbyterians  and  Catholics  in  gen- 
eral may  do."  The  fact  that  Perry  gave  the  Priest 
his  usual  title  was  not  entirely  due  to  his  growing 
liberality;  it  was  in  part  a  concession  to  his  ears,  and 
wholly  unconscious,  for  he  heard  the  name  a  dozen 
times  every  day. 

"Right  you  are,  old  fellow,  and  I'm  deuced  glad 
to  hear  you  say  it,"  answered  Hadley.  To  Wood- 
worth  he  said:  "No  one  ever  objects  to  a  play  of 
Shakespeare's."  And  then  to  Perry:  "We  were  going 
to  give  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  but  Miss  Beaucceur 
positively  refused  to  be  Portia,  and  there  is  really  no 
one  else  to  take  a  leading  lady's  part.  So  we  have 
compromised  on  As  You  Like  It.  Governor  Mason 
has  agreed  to  take  the  part  of  Orlando;  and  Miss 
Beaucceur  will  play  Rosalind — if  you  will  take  a  part 
in  the  play." 

"If  I'll  take  part  in  the  play?"  repeated  Perry  in 
surprise. 

"Yes;  it's  some  whim  of  hers;" — but  Perry  was 
pleased,  as  he  saw,  "The  Governor  and  I  have  a 


The  Wolverine  119 

wager  on  your  decision,"  continued  Hadley.  "And 
don't  you  fail  me,  old  fellow!" 

"What  is  my  part  to  be?"  asked  Perry,  with  more 
interest. 

"Well,  you  see,  it's  like  this — we're  going  to  take 
some  liberties  with  Mr.  Shakespeare.  We  want  you 
to  take  the  part  of  Oliver;  but  we  want  you,  also,  to 
do  the  wrestling  with  Orlando.  So  we  will  leave  out 
the  Court-wrestler,  and  have  the  brothers  do  that 
together.  You  know  how  the  play  goes.  To  have  it 
announced  that  you  and  the  Governor  will  give  a 
wrestling  bout  will  make  the  performance  take  like 
wildfire  with  the  populace.  Every  one  has  heard  of 
your  feats  at  the  Armory.  And  Mason  comes  here 
from  Virginia,  with  a  regular  George  Washington 
record." 

"But  who  will  care? — if  I  play  my  part  I  am  downed 
anyway." 

"That's  another  liberty  we're  going  to  take  with 
Mr.  Shakespeare.  The  bout  will  be  in  earnest.  Then 
the  play  goes  on  with  the  understanding  that  Orlando 
won  irrespective  of  how  it  really  falls  out." 

"And  your  other  characters?" 

"Miss  Navarre  plays  the  part  of  Celia;  the  Govern- 
or's sister,  Doctor  Houghton  and  I  are  to  have  parts; 
and  others  are  yet  to  be  assigned." 

"I'm  surprised  that  Miss  Beaucceur  should  wish  to 
include  me  in  the  play,"  Perry  said,  still  withholding 
his  consent.  "I  thought  she  knew  me  better  than  that. 
I  never  acted  a  part  in  my  life,  and  have  no  more  talent 
than  a  cow."  Nevertheless,  he  was  more  than  pleased 
by  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  included ;  as,  had 


120  The  Wolverine 

he  been  left  out,  he  would  have  felt  an  unreasoning1 
slight. 

"Oh,  you're  not  alone!  There  are  others  of  us  who 
have  never  taken  part  in  a  play.  There'll  be  a  lot  of 
rehearsals,  and  the  drill  will  be  as  good  as  a  school  to 
you.  Don't  give  me  your  answer  now.  Think  it 
over.  Go  out  and  see  Miss  Beaucceur,  and  talk  it 
over  with  her/' 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Mason,  joining  them  at 
that  moment,  his  hand  full  of  letters. 

"Oh,  it's  the  play.  You  needn't  look  so  mighty 
jealous.  But  I  believe  you'd  give  your  Governorship 
rather  than  lose  the  chance  of  playing  Orlando  to 
Miss  Beaucceur's  Rosalind!" 

"The  part  has  its  charms,"  admitted  Mason,  with 
one  of  his  winning  smiles.  "But  how  is  it — will  North 
do  the  part  of  Oliver?"  And  then  to  North  himself: 
"Do  we  wrestle  for  the  plaudits  of  Rome?" 

"I'm  going  to  think  about  it  over  night,"  replied 
Perry,  his  inclination  losing  fire  in  the  kindling  of 
sudden  jealousy. 

"Marry!  see  to't  ye  think  favorably  on't,"  returned 
Mason. 

"E'en  now  the  very  atmosphere  doth  hedge  the 
Governor  about — the  atmosphere  of  the  drama,  you 
understand,"  said  the  Major,  recovering  quickly  from 
the  other's  contagion,  and  indulging  in  a  bit  of  horse 
play. 

"But  say,  North,"  interjected  the  Governor,  become 
suddenly  serious:  "I  want  you  to  come  up  to  the 
Capitol.  Here  are  a  heap  of  letters — from  General 


The  Wolverine 


Cass,  Representative  Lyon,  and  others.  I  want  to 
talk  them  over  with  you." 

"I'll  see  if  there's  any  mail  for  me,  then  I'll  walk 
up  with  you  at  once,"  answered  Perry,  turning  to  the 
post-office  window,  before  which  the  crowd  had  fallen 
away  by  this  time. 

A  letter  from  his  mother  and  sister  was  handed 
him;  and  there  were  papers  and  a  magazine.  The 
postage  was  not  all  prepaid,  and  Perry  satisfied  the 
claims  against  him  with  a  wedge  of  silver  from  a 
Spanish  dollar  —  such  money  circulating  freely  in  the 
Territory  at  that  time.  The  letter  was  skilfully  folded, 
without  envelope,  and  sealed.  Perry  broke  it  open 
and  read  the  first  and  last  paragraphs  to  assure  him- 
self there  was  no  ill  news. 

Arrived  at  the  Capitol,  Mason  suggested  that  he 
finish  his  letter,  while  he  himself  examined  the  official 
correspondence.  Afterward,  he  and  Perry  talked  for 
an  hour,  going  over  papers  and  examining  maps. 
Mason  could  be  a  perfect  companion,  free  and  easy 
one  moment,  and  the  next  assume  all  the  air  and  dig- 
nity of  high  official  position.  One  moment  you  might 
say  —  "That's  all  right,  Tom,  but  -  "  and  the  next 
you  were  compelled  to  reply  gravely:  "Very  well, 
your  Excellency,"  and  bow  your  assent. 

That  night  Perry  re-read  As  You  Like  It  in  order 
to  freshen  his  memory  of  the  play.  The  fact  that 
Marie's  action  was  conditional  on  his  flattered  him. 
He  tried  to  divine  her  motive.  He  knew  he  had 
offended  her  at  Mere  Gobielle's,  and  that  he  had  been 
receiving  his  punishment  since.  Was  this  not  of  a 
piece  with  that?  Sometimes  he  wondered  if  she  were 


122  The  Wolverine 

not  playing  with  him  from  first  to  last; — but  this  was 
too  painful  to  be  entertained.  Besides,  he  was  too 
loyal  to  believe  her  guilty  of  such  wickedness. 

It  was  not  pleasant  to  think  of  her  playing  Rosalind 
to  Mason's  Orlando.  He  wished  Marie  were  to 
change  parts  with  her  cousin.  The  cousins  in  life 
were  to  be  cousins  in  the  play!  It  gave  him  a  bad 
half-hour  thinking  of  Marie  dressed  in  man's  attire — 
the  Ganymede  costume.  This  nearly  decided  him 
to  give  it  up — if  it  would  save  her  from  that!  But  he 
doubted  whether  she  would  hold  to  her  whim  not  to 
play  if  he  did  not.  Such  action  would  result  only  in 
shutting  himself  out.  There  were  to  be  many  rehears- 
als, and  he  would  have  as  much  of  her  society  as  the 
most  favored.  He  would  show  her  that  he  did  not 
care  for  her  coquettish  punishments.  Besides,  the 
whole  thing  had  been  flung  at  him  like  a  challenge. 
They  had  all  thought  he  would  not  play.  But  he 
would.  And  he  would  throw  Mason  in  the  wrestling 
bout! 

While  preparation  for  the  play  was  still  going  on, 
Perry  met  Father  Richard  one  afternoon  in  company 
with  Marie  and  her  youngest  brother,  just  about  to 
turn  in  to  Ste.  Anne's.  The  weather  had  come  off 
suddenly  warm,  almost  spring-like.  The  ground  was 
still  covered  with  snow,  which  sent  back  the  glaring 
light  of  the  sun  with  blinding  effect.  A  torrent  of 
water  poured  from  each  tall,  steep  roof,  and  the  nar- 
row board  walks  were  sploshy  and  disagreeable.  But 
the  experienced  habitant  would  tell  you,  with  rare 
contentment,  that  things  underfoot  would  be  worse 
before  they  were  better. 


The  Wolverine  123 

Francois  had  his  snowball,  and  was  on  the  lookout 
for  game,  when  he  spied  Perry  coming1  toward  them. 
With  the  assurance  of  real  camaraderie  he  let  the 
white  missile  fly  at  its  mark,  with  the  result  of  immedi- 
ately drawing  fire  upon  himself.  Marie  and  Father 
Richard  escaped  to  the  church  steps,  where  they 
watched  the  battle  out  of  range  of  flying  snowballs. 
It  was  short  and  decisive,  for  Frangois  presently  took 
refuge  behind  them  within  the  doors  of  the  sanctuary. 

"Won't  you  come  in?"  the  Priest  asked,  after  some 
pleasantries,  as  Perry  was  about  to  pass  on. 

He  hesitated,  and  Marie  added:  "I  am  going  to 
play  the  organ.  You  have  never  heard  me  play,  Mr. 
North."  And  so  he  followed  them  into  what  seemed 
the  blackness  of  night  after  the  glare  of  the  snow. 
"The  music  is  some  of  Father  Richard's  own  compo- 
sition," Marie  explained,  as  she  held  some  papers 
before  her  eyes.  "Why,  I  cannot  see  a  note!"  she 
cried,  with  sudden  dismay. 

"It  is  the  snow  blindness,"  said  the  Priest.  "The 
eyes  will  recover  in  a  few  minutes."  He  spoke  with 
the  distinct  enunciation  which  thirty  years  of  patient 
endeavor  to  acquire  the  language  had  given  him. 
Perry  had  noticed  the  accent  at  their  first  meeting, 
and  it  had  always  remained  a  pleasant  feature  in  the 
clergyman's  conversation.  "This  is  the  first  time  you 
have  been  within  these  walls,  is  it  not,  Mr.  North? 
You  must  tell  me  what  you  think  of  Ste.  Anne's  before 
you  leave." 

Father  Richard  was  justly  proud  of  the  structure, 
the  finest  in  Detroit  in  that  day.  He  had  put  the 
best  portion  of  a  lifetime  in  its  erection,  freely  giving 


124  The  Wolverine 

his  last  penny,  and  rejoicing  when  the  salary  of  a 
Congressman  made  this  seem  considerable. 

Meanwhile,  Franqois  had  groped  his  way  to  the 
bellows,  and  stood  ready  to  do  his  part  in  producing 
the  holy  father's  music.  Soon  the  strains  of  an  organ 
floated  through  the  sombre,  vaulted  nave,  hushed  and 
empty.  The  Priest  and  Perry  had  remained  near  the 
entrance,  where  they  dropped  into  pews,  the  elder 
man  a  little  in  advance.  Perry  had  a  splendid  view 
of  the  strong-lined,  sallow  face  above  the  broad,  bony 
shoulders. 

At  first  the  music  came  low  and  soft,  with  languor- 
ous movements;  and  the  young  man  seemed  to  see 
sunny  fields  of  Normandy,  with  flocks  and  herds,  and 
to  hear  the  flute  notes  of  some  strange  bird  calling  to 
his  mate.  Presently  the  low  notes  became  heavier, 
the  time  stately,  suggesting  a  dark,  ivy-grown  cathe- 
dral; the  heavy,  chilled  atmosphere  of  banished  sun- 
light, of  massive  walls  and  stained-glass  windows; 
the  listener  heard  footfalls  of  monkish  feet  on  tiled 
flooring,  and  he  saw  crucifixes  and  kneeling,  penitent 
figures.  Then  came  a  stormy  passage,  the  deep  thun- 
der of  Atlantic  billows,  the  shrill  whistle  of  icy  wind 
through  rigging;  low,  sullen  clouds  battled  with  dark- 
green,  angry  waves.  Suddenly  there  was  a  calm, 
when  but  a  single  note  seemed  repeating  itself;  it 
was  the  haven  after  the  tempest;  the  low  hills  of 
another  shore.  Again  the  music  moved  on,  grand 
and  free;  till  Perry  saw  the  New  World's  cathedral, 
massive  forests,  with  leafy  minarets  lifting  skyward 
above  dusky,  untutored  children,  worshipping  at  a 
Jesuit  missionary's  feet. 


The  Wolverine  125 

This,  that  he  was  listening  to,  was  the  Priest's  com- 
position, he  had  been  told.  It  was  the  story  of  his 
life,  he  felt  certain.  And  as  Perry  marvelled,  there 
was  a  final  burst  of  melody  that  made  him  recall  all 
the  imagery  of  the  closing  pages  of  his  Bible;  the 
strange  book  with  the  seven  seals;  Michael  and  his 
angels  fighting  with  the  dragon;  the  Lamb  and  his 
company,  singing  in  that  new  heaven  above  the  new 
earth,  the  song  which  no  man  could  learn. 

The  spell  took  hold  on  him  with  such  force  that 
involuntarily  he  started  and  looked  about  the  chilled 
and  sunless  chamber,  recalling  certain  diabolic  deeds 
he  had  once  read  in  an  attack  on  Popery.  The  next 
instant  he  was  smiling  at  the  senselessness  of  his  emo- 
tions; for  Marie's  voice  came  like  sunlight  to  banish 
gruesome  feelings.  The  clear,  ringing  practicality  of 
her  question  as  she  asked  the  Priest  regarding  the 
movement  of  a  certain  passage,  assured  him  that  he 
was  yet  in  a  very  safe  and  normal  world. 

When  Marie  had  finished,  she  joined  the  men  and 
accompanied  them  about  the  .church,  while  Father 
Richard  exhibited  its  appointments  to  Perry.  It  is 
very  doubtful  whether  the  young  man  would  have 
been  so  intensely  interested  in  the  matter  had  they 
been  alone.  As  it  was,  the  three  lingered  over  each 
new  object,  and  he  put  questions  which  drew  Marie 
into  the  conversation.  Their  talk  wandered  to  other 
things,  and  presently  drifted  to  the  hospital,  which  the 
Father  was  interested  in  as  well;  thence  to  the  play 
was  but  a  step. 

"Ah,  there  is  something  I  have  wished  to  speak  to 
you  #bout,  Mr.  North,"  said  Marie.  "The  Forest  of 


126  The  Wolverine 

Arden,  can  we  not  make  it  a  real  one?  You  men, 
can  you  not  get  trees — evergreens — and  fasten  them 
on  blocks  so  they  will  stand?" 

"That  is  a  splendid  idea,  Miss  Beauoeur!  I'll  speak 
to  the  Governor  and  others  about  it;  and  if  agreed 
to,  I'll  get  the  evergreens  myself,"  said  Perry  with 
enthusiasm. 

"Ah,  indeed,"  repeated  the  Priest,  with  approval. 
"It  is  certain  to  be  a  success.  Everyone  is  talking 
about  it.  And  four  hundred  tickets  have  already  been 
sold." 

"What  did  you  think  of  the  rehearsal  last  evening, 
Mr.  North?"  Marie  asked. 

"It  was  well  gone  through  with,  if  I  am  any  judge. 
It  was  a  vast  improvement  over  the  previous  one, 
was  it  not?" 

"I  think  so.  The  costumes  seem  to  give  one  the 
air  of  the  play.  Is  not  Touchstone  simply  perfect? 
Ah,  Pere,  you  should  see  Antoine  in  his  part.  He 
is  so  droll!" 

"And  is  not  the  Governor  a  perfect  lover?"  ven- 
tured Perry,  not  without  guile. 

"He  is  good,"  was  Marie's  rather  noncommittal 
reply.  "He  wishes  more  rehearsals;  but  one  more 
will  be  sufficient,  do  you  not  think?" 

"I  think  so,"  answered  Perry  absently,  and  then 
repeated  his  conclusion  with  emphasis. 

"Ciel;  I  remember!  I  promised  Claire  I  would 
return  before  it  was  dark  to  try  on  my  Ganymede 
costume.  I  must  go  at  once!"  But  she  lingered  to 
say:  "Ah,  it  is  very  fine  with  its  long  cloak  of  fur!" 

"Cloak?"  questioned  Perry. 


The  Wolverine  127 

"Ah,  yes;  men  wore  cloaks  in  those  days.  You 
shall  see.  But  Claire,  I  fear  she  will  go  mad  in  love 
with  me!" 

After  Marie  had  gone,  Father  Richard  invited 
Perry  into  his  study  where  a  fire  was  burning,  and 
there  they  discussed  the  early  maps,  the  explorations 
of  La  Salle,  Cadillac,  Father  Marquette,  and  kindred 
topics.  The  old  idea  of  crossing  swords  with  this 
man  for  the  salvation  of  Marie's  soul  had  grown  feeble 
in  Perry's  mind,  and  only  appeared  now  and  then  as 
a  lame  excuse  for  indulging  in  mademoiselle's  society. 
Perry  was  an  ardent  seeker  after  knowledge,  and 
Father  Richard  could  satisfy  his  mental  hunger  as  no 
one  else.  Avoiding  controversial  subjects  in  the  main, 
their  discussions  were  limited  only  by  the  confines  of 
human  knowledge  and  the  ability  of  the  mind  to 
form  speculations.  A  strong  and  lasting  friendship 
then  and  there  began  between  the  two  men. 

As  they  talked,  there  repeatedly  stole  before  the 
young  man's  vision  a  figure  in  a  cloak  which,  sweeping 
away  in  folds,  revealed  a  very  boyish  form,  exceeding 
anything  else  in  its  grace  and  beauty.  That  Marie 
had  never  worn  her  Ganymede  costume  at  their 
rehearsals  was  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  Perry.  She 
had  always  made  an  excuse  that  the  things  were  not 
completed. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

H,  ma  cousine,  you  make  such  a  fine  fellow 
un  beau  garqon!"  exclaimed  Claire,  as  she 
stood  off  and  admired  Marie  in  her  Gany- 
mede toggery.  "There!  it  is  best  to  let  the  cloak  fly 
back  loose  from  the  shoulders — like  that.  It  shows 
the  gallant  cuttle-axe  upon  thy  thigh.  Ah,  your  form 
it  is  just  right;  mine  would  never,  never  do!"  And 
she  ended  with  a  little  sigh. 

"Eh  bien,  I  wish  you  had  the  part  to  play/'  returned 
Marie,  with  a  toss  of  the  head.  "I  like  it  not.  Some- 
times I  think  Rosalind — it  is  not  modest  that  she 
acts.  Think  you  if  I  loved  a  man  I  would  sigh  and 
tell  it  here,  there,  and  everywhere?" 

"No  more  did  Rosalind,"  said  Claire  in  defense, 
"but  to  her  cousin  who  was  as  a  sister!  Marie,  if  you 
were  in  love  you  would  tell  it  to  me,  would  you  not? 
Ah,  have  I  not  told  you  it  is  too  sweet  to  keep  to 
one's  self?  And  monsieur  le  gouverneur  is  he  not  a 
perfect  Orlando?  I  wish  we  did  change  parts!" 
Again  she  finished  with  a  sigh. 

"Monsieur  le  gouverneur  is  perfect  in  parts,"  said 
Marie,  thoughtfully.  "He  can  make  the  pretty 


The  Wolverine  129 

speeches,  and  in  love  he  will  write  the  poetry,  I  do  not 
doubt.  But  Mr.  North  is  more  like  the  real  Orlando 
at  the  first.  He  has  had  the  rude  training.  But  he 
would  never  write  the  poems  and  pin  them  to  the 
trees.  That  is  silly!  I  think  Mr.  Shakespeare  is  not 
true  to  life." 

"You  would  not  say  that  if  you  were  once  in  love," 
returned  Claire,  confidently.  "What  seems  folly  to 
you  now  would  then  be  only  sweet.  Ah,  do  not  pull 
the  cloak  about  you  so !  You  will  do  that  on  the  stage 
and  it  will  spoil  all.  Throw  out  your  arm  with  the 
boar-spear,  and  let  the  cloak  trail  like  a  mantle." 

"You  deceive  yourself,  ma  cousine,"  Marie  inter- 
rupted. "I  shall  act  my  part  when  the  time  comes. 
But  I  was  not  going  to  make  a  show  of  myself  every 
evening  we  rehearsed.  That,  you  know,  was  the  rea- 
son I  would  not  have  this  finished  sooner."  And  a 
rosy  flush  crept  over  her  handsome  face. 

"Ciel,  you  can  be  so  firm,"  declared  her  cousin, 
"And  that,  I  think,  it  is  not  like  the  real  Rosalind. 
You  play  the  part  excellently,  as  we  have  seen  it  in 
the  rehearsals,  ma  chere.  But  I  think  in  life  you 
would  not  faint  at  the  sight  of  blood." 

"Ah,  then  I  am  a  better  man  than  Rosalind!" 
exclaimed  Marie  with  an  odd  laugh,  finding  satisfac- 
tion in  her  cousin's  words. 

"Yes,  but  it  will  not  help  in  the  play." 

"The  play!  I  can  get  along  with  the  play.  It  is  in 
life  I  was  thinking.  How  full  of  briars  is  this  work- 
ing-day zvorld!  And  men  can  bear  it  better  than 
the  women.  I  am  glad  the  winter  is  nearly  gone.  In 
two  weeks  Etienne  Baddeau  will  return." 


13°  The  Wolverine 

"Mon  Dieu!  you  are  so  odd.  Sometimes  I  think 
you  do  love  Etienne,  you  do  count  so  on  his  return! 
But  you  care  nothing  for  his  picture  that  he  gave  you, 
though  he  paid  monsieur  le  peintre  Burnham  a  great 
price  for  it.  And  you  will  never  wear  his  furs!  Why 
do  you  not  act  like  other  demoiselles?  Come,  tell 
me — would  you  like  Etienne  to  be  Orlando?" 

"If  he  could  act  the  part  I  should  not  mind.  But 
he  can  no  more  act  than  a  stick  can  act!  It  is  neces- 
sary, I  suppose,  that  I  marry  somebody.  Etienne  is 
as  good  as  another.  And  the  sooner  it  is  over,  and  I 
am  settled,  the  better.  I  can  tell  you,  Claire,  chere, 
I  would  not  play  to  an  Orlando  that  I  loved.  My 
love — the  love  that  lasts,  shall  come  after  I  am  mar- 
ried. And  I  will  show  it  only  to  my  husband/* 

"I  believe  Mr.  North  would  like  to  play  Orlando  to 
the  woman  he  loves.  I  have  seen  him  look  at  mon- 
sieur le  gouverneur  with  such  jealousy  when  he  has 
been  rehearsing  his  lines." 

"Ah,  I  do  not  think  it,"  Marie  answered,  but  not 
without  pleasure  in  what  her  cousin  reported.  "I 
have  been  greatly  tempted  to  try  him  sometimes, 
when  we  have  been  alone.  I  am  sure  he  knows  the 
part.  Do  you  think  it  would  be  wrong — just  one 
little  moment?"  It  was  an  argument  as  much 
repeated  to  herself  as  to  her  cousin.  "If  he  is  in  love 
with  me — which,  of  course,  I  do  not  know" — this,  in 
spite  of  the  happy  flush  that  came  into  her  cheeks  as 
she  spoke  the  words — "he  will  quickly  recover  after 
I  am  married  to  Etienne.  And  so  will  monsieur  le 
gouverneur."  And  then  she  repeated — "Men  have 


The  Wolverine  131 

died  from  time  to  time  and  worms  have  eaten  them,  but 
not  for  love." 

"How  horrid  Mr.  Shakespeare  is  at  times!  Worms 
have  eaten  them — ugh!"  cried  Claire,  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

"Yes,  eaten  them,"  repeated  her  cousin,  a  bit  of 
cynicism  creeping  into  her  tones.  "We  are  all  eaten 
of  them  at  last.  So  what  matters  it?  I'll  have  my  fun 
in  the  play — and  then — then —  Why,  then  I'll  marry 
Etienne!"  And  Marie  tried  to  laugh  off  her  bitter 
mood. 

"Ah,  you  do  look  so  fine  in  doublet  and  hose.  And 
a  reckless  air  becomes  you,  mon  beau  garc,on!" 

"Does  it,  truly?  You  have  said  so  many  pleasant 
things  to  me.  I  would  that  you  might  have  your  wish, 
ma  chere!  You  play  your  part  well — have  I  not  said 
so  many  times?  And  that  is  the  main  thing;  for  it  is 
but  a  play.  The  character  of  Celia  is  unselfish  and 
loyal;  and  she  is  modest.  I  like  it  better.  But  you 
would  rather  be  Rosalind.  The  others  would  not  lis- 
ten to  my  protests,  you  remember  at  the  first " 

Then,  suddenly  becoming  oblivious  of  all  her  dis- 
paraging criticism,  she  added,  as  one  thinking  aloud: 
"I  do  think  you  are  more  like  Rosalind  than  I." 

"Thank  you,  ma  cousine,  since  Rosalind  is  not 
modest,"  said  Claire,  sudden  anger  giving  point  to 
her  sarcasm. 

"Ah,  you  know  I  did  not  mean  that!  Do  you  not 
know  I  am  a  woman?  when  I  think  I  must  speak!  Ah 
no,  no!  not  that,  either!  I  do  make  matters  worse!" 
And  all  confusion,  she  flew  to  her  cousin,  taking  her 
in  her  arms.  The  long  cloak  had  fallen  from  her 


i32  The  Wolverine 

shoulders  to  the  floor.  "You  are  a  dear!  What 
would  I  ever  do  without  you,  ma  chere,  ma  bien 
aimee!" 

"Mon  Dieu!  you  do  embarrass  me  with  your  arms 
and  your  man's  clothing!  Ciel,  think  you  a  man 
would  embrace  like  that?"  breathed  Claire,  blushing 
with  pretty  modesty. 

"Certainement!  And  you  have  dreamed  that  it  is 
sweet!  Now  is  it?  And  this?  and  this?  and  this?" 
And  she  hugged  her  cousin  rapturously,  again  and 
again;  kissing  her  on  lips,  and  cheek,  and  in  the  hol- 
low of  the  throat.  So  that  when  they  parted  they 
were  flushed  and  breathless,  and  tears  were  in  their 
eyes.  And  looking  at  each  other,  they  laughed  con- 
vulsively, clinging  to  their  sides  till  they  could  no 
longer  stand,  but  sank  into  chairs. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  old  Council  House  was  swept  and  gar- 
nished and  further  transformed,  till  it  made  a 
very  satisfactory  play-house.  These  four 
stone  walls  were  used  to  strange  sights.  Here  had 
gathered  the  Pottawattamies  and  Ojibways,  the  Wyan- 
dots  and  the  Ottawas,  and  with  the  white  man  repre- 
senting the  Great  Father  at  Washington,  delivered 
their  long  harangues,  smoked  their  peace  pipes,  and 
marked  their  rude  totems  on  innumerable  treaties. 
Did  walls  give  back  their  secrets,  what  simple  elo- 
quence these  might  unfold!  They  had  served  their 
original  purpose,  the  day  of  which  was  already 
departed;  to-night  they  looked  down  on  a  different 
throng.  Perhaps  an  Indian  or  two  was  present,  for 
the  concourse  was  a  motley  one;  but  if  so,  all  vestige 
of  whatever  grandeur  he  once  possessed  was  gone, 
and  he  stood  now  a  lone,  forlorn  figure  in  this  min- 
gling of  superior  races. 

The  music  of  an  orchestra  absorbed  all  discordant 
sounds.  In  the  audience  French  heads  wagged  to  the 
sweep  of  Felix  Cadette's  arm  above  his  fiddle,  and 
Yankee  toes  tapped  the  floor  as  notes  poured  from 


134  The  Wolverine 

the  brazen  throat  of  Charlie  Smith's  cornet.  Then  up 
went  the  curtain  amid  the  wild  clapping  of  a  thousand 
hands,  and  there  on  the  stage  in  picturesque  costumes 
were  the  usurping  Duke  Frederick;  his  daughter, 
and  her  cousin;  the  sons  of  Sir  Rowland  de  Bois; 
Lords  and  attendants. 

"You  shall  try  but  one  fall,"  cries  the  Duke,  and 
forward  steps  Sir  Rowland's  sons,  amid  the  hearty 
cheering  of  that  sea  of  faces  below  the  footlights. 

Perry  and  the  Governor  are  at  each  other  in  an 
instant.  The  throng  in  the  pit  is  breathless.  There 
is  the  scuffling  of  wrestlers'  feet.  They  wriggle  and 
twist  in  a  bear-like  embrace.  Now  Orlando  is  on  one 
knee.  Now  he  is  up  again.  Presently  Oliver's  back 
is  bent  nearly  to  a  fall,  and  the  audience  breaks  into 
a  premature  cry.  Each  tries  a  trick  and  is  foiled  by 
his  adversary.  The  pit  is  on  its  feet.  And  then  the 
thing  happens — Oliver  is  thrown  heavily  on  his  back. 

Rosalind's  words,  "O  excellent  young  man!"  are 
hopelessly  lost  in  the  cries  beyond  the  footlights. 

"Hurrah  for  the  Governor!  Aye!  Vive  le  gouver- 
neur!  Oui!  Aye!  Oui!"  Again  and  again  the  cries 
are  repeated,  till  at  last,  through  fear  of  missing  the 
play  the  crowd  becomes  still.  In  that  moment  of 
hush  Perry  hears  at  least  one  sympathetic  voice  as 
Frangois  pipes  loud  and  shrill:  "Vivent  les  cheveux 
d'or!  Vivent  les  cheveux  d'or!"  There  is  a  burst  of 
laughter,  then  the  spectators  take  it  up  and  repeat 
the  words,  good-nature  mingling  with  derision,  till 
the  old  Council  House  fairly  rings  with  the  cry. 

Though  his  young  friend  meant  well,  the  cries  of 


The  Wolverine  ^35 

"golden-hair"  rankled  in  Perry's  breast  with  the  unex- 
pected defeat  at  Mason's  hands. 

At  last  the  play  proceeds.  Rosalind  bestows  her 
necklace  about  the  victor's  throat  and  makes  her  first 
confession  to  her  cousin.  The  scene  shifts  to  one 
within  the  palace,  and  the  Duke  pronounces  banish- 
ment on  his  niece.  Then  Orlando  and  Adam  have 
their  meeting,  and  Orlando  flies  with  the  old  man  from 
the  brother  who  would  kill  him. 

It  would  be  some  time  before  Perry  would  appear 
again,  so  he  sought  a  secluded  chamber,  there  to 
nurse  his  wounded  spirit.  Into  this  room  Marie  found 
her  way  after  her  first  scene  in  the  Forest  of  Arden. 
Her  cloak  was  drawn  about  in  a  way  to  hide  doublet 
and  hose.  Her  face  was  flushed,  and  her  eyes  burned 
with  deep,  womanly  sympathy.  Never  before  had  she 
looked  so  lovely  as  now. 

"Ah,  the  people  they  are  so  horrid  to-night!"  she 
began.  "I  like  not  their  shouts  and  cries.  I  wish  we 
might  hide  from  it  all.  I  wish  we  had  never  to  go 
back  on  the  stage  again!" 

Could  she  know  how  much  her  words  were  to  this 
man?  She  had  found  him  in  a  moment  when  he  was 
not  altogether  himself.  He  stood  ready  to  snatch 
anything  that  would  be  a  salve  to  his  wounded  pride, 
a  balm  to  his  lacerated  feelings. 

"It  is  like  a  nightmare,"  he  groaned.  "I  didn't 

think  it  would  be  so!  But  you They  are  kind  to 

you." 

"Ah,  I  like  not  such  kindness.  If  they  would  be 
kind  to  me  they  must  be  kind  to  all  my  friends." 

"It  was  your  brother's  voice  that  started  the  cry." 


i36  The  Wolverine 

"Truly.  But  it  was  friendly.  He  likes  the  color  of 
your  hair.  I  might  have  said  it  myself."  And  her  air 
plainly  said:  "You  cannot  doubt  me."  She  came 
quite  close  to  where  he  stood,  and  her  eyes  poured 
into  his  more  than  just  the  sympathy  of  an  ardent 
young  nature.  He  could  but  feel  the  intense  thrill  her 
manner  gave  him. 

"But  that — the  people — are  nothing.  I  do  not 
care,"  said  he,  throwing  off  all  that  vexed  and  morti- 
fied. "It  is  kind  of  you  to  come  here  now — to  say 
what  you  have." 

"Ah,  no,  it  was  not  kindness.  I  am  so  afraid  I 
shall  forget  my  part."  This  was  so  evident  a  pre- 
tense that  it  added  to  his  pleasure.  "I  should  die — 
out  there  before  them  all — if  I  did!  How  is  it  that  it 
goes?"  She  put  her  finger  to  her  lips  in  thought. 
The  simple,  childlike  expression  of  her  face  came, 
and  then  passed  as  she  recalled  the  lines.  Again  she 
was  supremely  womanly,  and  to  the  man  irresistibly 
fascinating. 

"What  would  you  say  to  me  now  an  I  were  your 
very,  very  Rosalind?"  she  repeated  most  charmingly. 

"7  would  kiss  before  I  spoke,"  returned  he,  taking 
the  other  part. 

"Nay,  you  were  better  speak  -first,"  was  returned, 
with  a  saucy  toss  of  the  head,  but — did  she  know  it? 
— with  a  bewitching,  daring  invitation  in  the  eyes. 

"How  if  the  kiss  be  denied  ?" 

And  playing  his  part  as  he  would,  he  held  her  by 
the  shoulders,  looking  into  a  face  of  ravishing  beauty, 
his  heart  hanging  on  her  words.  But  no  words  came. 
Along  the  hall,  however,  a  footfall  sounded.  This 


The  Wolverine  137 

moment — supreme  in  his  life — was  threatened.  Twice 
he  kissed  those  mute  lips  and  freed  her  before  Claire 
burst  upon  them. 

"Good  Heavens!"  she  cried.  "Monsieur  le  gouver- 
neur  has  fastened  his  poems  to  all  the  trees,  and 
Touchstone  has  repeated  his  droll  remarks  three  times, 
while  we  have  hunted  everywhere  for  you.  Hurry 
with  me!  The  play  is  like  to  be  a  failure!" 

Indeed,  the  audience  had  begun  to  show  signs  of 
uneasiness.  All  this  was  quickly  turned  into  applause 
when  Marie  appeared  on  the  stage.  She  and  the 
Governor  were  unquestionably  the  favorites  of  the 
evening. 

"By  gad!"  exclaimed  General  Macomb,  "that  girl 
makes  a  mighty  fine  fellow!" 

"And  she's  a  mighty  fine  girl,  too,"  added  General 
Brady.  "All  Detroit  is  proud  of  her — I  might  say  all 
of  Michigan!" 

"You  could  easily  have  said  that  a  few  years  ago," 
returned  Macomb;  "for  then  Detroit  was  all  of  Michi- 
gan. I  can  hardly  believe  she  is  the  same  little  girl 
I  used  to  hold  on  my  knee  in  those  old  days!" 

"And  you  remember  the  plays  we  used  to  give?" 
questioned  Major  Biddle.  "The  Thespian  Corps? 
And  how  we  officers  put  the  scenery  together,  which 
the  ladies  of  the  Post  painted?  Ah!  those  were  fine 
times — gone  never  to  return!" 

"It  does  me  good  to  get  back  to  my  old  birthplace, 
and  recall  those  early  days,"  declared  Macomb.  "There 
was  little  Lieutenant  Jimmie  Webb,  used  to  take  all 
the  lady  parts  in  our  plays!  And  now  he  is  in  the 
Diplomatic  Corps,  away  at  some  foreign  post." 


138  The  Wolverine 

"But  loolc!  here  comes  Orlando  and  Rosalind. 
They  say  the  young  Governor  is  up  to  his  ears  in  love 
with  Miss  Beaucceur.  I  swear  he  plays  the  part  as 
a  man  might  who  was!  Jupiter,  and  what  an  oppor- 
tunity for  a  lover!" 

"He's  a  fine  fellow — our  Governor.  There  was 
much  opposition  to  him  at  first,  but  he  seems  to  be  a 
general  favorite  now.  The  future  will  hear  from  him! 
He  seems  to  be  a  young  George  Washington;  all  he 
wants  is  an  opportunity.  Another  year  and  he  will 
be  the  idol  of  these  people." 

"And  the  idol  of  that  girl's  heart — or  women  aren't 
what  they  used  to  be!" 

"Ah!  there  you  have  a  mystery  that  never  changes, 
except  to  grow  more  inscrutable.  But  listen!" 

It  mattered  not  to  Perry  now  that  the  populace 
gave  all  the  glory  to  his  rival.  That  might  be  a  thou- 
sand times  greater  and  yet  fall  far  short  of  what  he 
had  received.  Through  his  remaining  parts  he  moved 
in  a  sort  of  glorified  haze,  and  at  last  got  to  his  rooms 
after  such  a  revolution  as  made  him  doubt  whether 
he  was  the  same  personality. 

He  tried  often  enough  to  think  clearly,  but  always 
the  thrill  of  that  supreme  moment  came,  and  every- 
thing else  fell  like  servants  on  their  faces  before  some 
potent  master.  He  knew  he  loved  Marie  Beaucceur. 
The  knowledge,  and  his  action  that  evening,  gave  rise 
to  a  thousand  questions.  Had  he  acted  the  part  of  a 
gentleman?  For  answer,  he  puzzled  over  Marie's 
behavior.  She  had  not  seemed  offended.  She  had 
spoken  to  him  several  times  afterward,  and  her  man- 
ner was  a  complete  effacement  of  the  whole  affair. 


The  Wolverine  139 

He  could  not  understand  her.  She  should  have  been 
indignant  at  his  action.  Could  it  be  that  his  love  was 
returned?  The  thought  was  intoxication. 

As  time  passed,  questions  became  more  and  more 
insistent  and  troublesome.  He  had  found  it  so  easy 
and  pleasant  to  drift  of  late,  though  the  teaching  of 
ages  was  against  such  folly.  Time  had  so  often 
unsnarled  knotted  difficulties  for  him,  he  relied  on  it 
now  to  lead  to  a  happy  solution.  In  the  morning  he 
would  know  what  to  do. 

In  the  morning  he  returned  Tom  Paine's  Age  of 
Reason  to  General  Cass's  library  and  brought  away  a 
novel  by  Brockden  Brown.  The  snow  had  all  disap- 
peared, and  the  day  was  very  spring-like.  He  felt 
an  irresistible  longing  to  see  Marie ;  but  as  yet  he  had 
not  answered  that  question — Was  he  a  gentleman? 
He  ought  to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife  after  the  part  he 
had  played.  He  should  do  this  to  preserve  his  self- 
respect,  if  for  no  other  reason.  But  the  horror  of  a 
Catholic  wife!  What  would  his  Puritan  mother  say? 

A  picture  of  his  Eastern  home  on  its  bleak  hill-side, 
with  a  vision  of  that  mother  moving  about  the  small, 
impoverished  rooms,  took  his  thoughts  for  a  time 
from  Marie.  All  his  life  she  had  been  a  widow,  toiling 
hard  to  wrest  a  scanty  living  from  the  barren  farm 
the  government  had  given  in  recognition  of  the 
father's  services.  Perry's  new  passion  seemed  like 
rank  disloyalty  to  her;  a  craven  return  for  the  hard- 
ship she  had  undergone  to  give  him  food,  clothing, 
and  a  bit  of  schooling.  Thoughts  of  the  goodly  sums 
he  had  regularly  sent  home  eased  his  mind  somewhat, 


i4°  The  Wolverine 

and  a  resolution  to  double  the  next  remittance  floated 
him  from  the  rock  on  which  he  had  stranded. 

By  the  following  day,  influences  which  had  re- 
strained him  were  dissipated,  and  he  went  out  to  see 
Marie,  but  found  the  cousins  away  from  home.  A 
second  attempt  resulted  no  better.  This  was  not  in 
itself  strange;  the  pleasant  weather  invited  one  to  be 
abroad  after  the  long,  cold  winter.  Marie's  social 
acquaintance  was  large,  and  made  demands  on  her 
time;  besides,  she  was  active  in  the  work  of  the 
Church  and  in  private  charities,  as  Perry  well  knew. 
He  was  almost  sure  to  find  her  at  home  in  the  even- 
ing, but  there  would  scarcely  be  a  chance  to  see  her 
alone,  for  the  Beaucceur  place  was  very  popular  at 
this  time.  Perry's  picture  of  an  evening  there  never 
failed  to  include  the  Governor,  and  he  had  no  wish 
to  play  a  further  accompaniment  for  him.  Marie 
would  know  of  his  repeated  efforts  to  see  her,  and  that 
should  speak  for  his  honorable  intentions.  He  cer- 
tainly did  mean  to  be  honorable;  but  just  what  action 
an  honorable  course  demanded  he  had  not  thought 
out.  A  great  deal  seemed  to  depend  on  Marie's  atti- 
tude toward  him;  he  must  see  her,  and  be  guided  by 
that. 

The  third  time  he  called  he  was  told  the  cousins  had 
gone  to  Monroe  for  a  visit  among  friends  there,  and 
still  farther  south. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

/ 

FOR  three  days  Perry  fretted    around,  argued 
himself  from  one  thing  to  another,  and  at  last 
decided  to  go  to  Monroe  and  take  the  chance 
of  finding  Marie. 

As  the  river  was  full  of  floating  ice,  no  boat  would 
be  likely  to  put  out  for  several  days.  Perry's  alterna- 
tive was  Baron  Le  Borgne's  coach — a  new  and 
gaudy  affair,  resplendent  in  yellow  paint,  drawn  by 
four  handsome  horses,  veritable  giants  by  the  side  of 
the  usual  Canadian  ponies.  Their  Jehu  was  a  diminu- 
tive Frenchman  who  had  lost  an  eye  at  the  Raisin 
massacre,  and  thus  gained  the  sobriquet  le  borgne. 
Some  secretly  believed  he  was  a  refugee  nobleman  of 
vanished  fortune,  in  hiding  from  the  Terror;  for  such 
a  story  was  started  by  the  newcomers,  who  were  igno- 
rant of  the  French  language. 

Baron  started  his  team  with  blasts  from  a  long  tin 
horn,  and  kept  up  the  din  till  they  had  splashed 
through  the  muddy  streets  and  reached  the  military 
road  leading  south  from  Bellefontaine.  They  found 
the  Rouge  and  the  Ecorse  swollen  and  turbid,  but  the 
newly-built  government  bridges  gave  them  quick  and 


i42  The  Wolverine 

safe  passage.  In  fact,  till  they  reached  Swan  Creek 
the  sandy  roads  were  fairly  good.  But  thence,  quag- 
mires and  bogs  seemed  more  and  more  to  prevail. 
The  wheels  sank  in  mud  to  the  hubs,  and  at  every 
revolution  carried  loads  of  the  heavy,  black  tenacious 
earth.  A  dozen  times  the  passengers  were  tumbled 
out  to  give  the  hard-worked  animals  a  chance  to  pull 
the  coach  from  the  slough  in  which  it  had  become 
fast.  The  horses  steamed  and  panted,  glaring  out  of 
blood-red  eyes;  wet  as  with  a  shower  of  rain  from 
above,  and  splattered  by  oceans  of  mire  from  beneath. 
Scarcely  a  mile  an  hour  was  made,  and  night  over- 
took them  before  half  the  way  had  been  traversed. 

Nothing  remained  but  to  stop  and  put  up  with  the 
first  rude  accommodations  that  offered.  Le  Borgne 
would  not  go  on  in  the  dark,  with  his  horses  in  their 
exhausted  condition.  A  man  with  sense  would  not 
ask  it,  and  Perry  still  possessed  some. 

The  house  before  which  they  finally  halted  was  of 
the  common  log  variety,  but  nearly  twice  the  usual 
size,  and  dignified  by  the  name  of  "Tavern."  This 
was  already  filled  with  wayfarers,  but  their  host 
"guessed"  he  could  accommodate  a  few  more,  and 
began  bustling  about  with  cheerful  hospitality.  Sup- 
per had  been  served  once,  but  soon  another  meal  was 
in  preparation  for  Le  Borgne  and  his  jaded  passen- 
gers. 

The  bill  of  fare  was  ample;  including  as  it  did,  John- 
ny-cake and  milk,  fried  bacon,  corn-bread,  wheat 
rolls,  cold  meat, — supplied  by  game  from  the  forest, 
— stewed  dried  apples,  strained  wild  honey,  new  maple 
syrup,  gingerbread,  and  coffee.  Toast  and  a  poached 


The  Wolverine  M3 

egg  were  served  as  a  delicacy  to  a  pale,  weazened- 
faced  child,  a  member  of  Le  Borgne's  party,  who  was 
evidently  ill.  The  little  one  at  once  became  a  matter 
of  solicitude  to  the  kind-hearted  hostess,  who  dis- 
cussed at  length  with  the  mother,  chills  and  fever,  and 
the  efficacy  of  certain  herbs  as  a  cure  for  the  prevail- 
ing complaint. 

After  supper,  those  at  the  table  melted  away  into 
the  two  groups  which  were  formed  on  either  side  of 
the  open  fireplace.  Although  the  day  had  been 
bright  and  spring-like,  the  air  at  night  had  a  nip  in 
it  that  made  the  blazing  logs  a  real  comfort.  The 
circle  made  up  of  men  listened  to  personal  experi- 
ences that  one  and  another  had  to  relate  of  their  jour- 
ney to  this  new  country.  Now  a  burly  fellow  told  of 
his  race  to  beat  a  rival  to  the  land-office.  A  little  man 
related  an  odd  experience  with  a  band  of  Pottawat- 
tamie  Indians,  while  a  third  person  boasted  knowledge 
of  a  certain  valuable  tract  of  government  land,  which 
he  meant  to  purchase  as  soon  as  he  could  acquire  the 
money — or,  he  would  impart  his  secret  for  a  suffi- 
cient consideration.  Perry  heard  of  endless  startling 
adventures  that  had  befallen  emigrants  on  their  way 
through  the  Long  Woods  of  Canada,  and  of  weari- 
some mishaps  that  occasioned  vexation  to  travelers 
by  the  dismal  Black  Swamp  of  northern  Ohio. 

In  the  other  group  the  women  entertained  them- 
selves with  household  matters.  Patch-work  quilts 
were  discussed  for  a  time — introduced  by  the  sewing 
which  a  neighbor  had  brought  in  and  busied  herself 
on,  while  gathering  the  news  fetched  by  travelers  to 
this  country  hostelry.  Most  of  the  women  had  their 


H4  The  Wolverine 

knitting  of  mixed  blue  and  white  woolen,  and  when 
tongues  were  still  the  click,  click,  of  industrious 
needles  could  be  heard.  Now  and  then  their  words 
were  passed  about  in  low  whispers,  when  the  subject 
chanced  upon  could  not  be  openly  discussed  before 
the  men. 

Newly  arrived  parties  were  always  eager  for  knowl- 
edge that  would  help  to  lighten  the  heavy  load  which, 
as  pioneers  in  an  unbroken  wilderness  they  had  shoul- 
dered with  courage  and  resolution.  Those  with  one, 
two,  or  three  years'  experience  gladly  aided  as  they 
could,  and  received  their  pay  in  the  joy  of  new  neigh- 
bors, and  the  benefits  of  a  rapidly  growing  State. 
Hopefulness,  high  spirits,  a  ready  willingness  to  help 
each  other,  and  open  .hospitality,  were  everywhere 
characteristic  of  the  people. 

At  ten  o'clock  Perry  climbed  to  the  loft  above, 
where,  with  five  or  six  other  men,  sleeping  places  were 
made  of  fur  robes  spread  over  loose  straw.  There  were 
a  few  comfortable  beds  in  the  house,  but  not  enough 
to  go  around.  These  were  given  to  the  women,  some 
of  whom  might  have  to  find  places  on  the  floor  of 
the  room  below,  if  they  proved  more  than  enough 
to  fill  the  beds. 

In  the  night  Perry  awakened,  and  between  the  logs 
where  the  chinking  had  fallen  away,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  moon  in  its  last  quarter,  rising  over  the  leafless 
branches  of  the  trees  to  the  eastward.  The  moment 
interested  him  with  the  strange  fascination  of  night 
sounds;  a  romantic  background  for  thoughts  of  Marie. 
The  heavy  breathing  of  tired  men  around  him  came 
first;  then  he  heard  the  horses  stepping  about  in  the 


The  Wolverine  145 

stables;  presently  a  child  cried  below,  and  a  mother's 
voice  soothed  the  little  one  to  sleep  again.  Far  off 
in  the  forest  a  wolf  howled,  answered  by  another; 
nearer  a  night-hawk  screeched,  at  first  so  close  and 
unexpectedly  as  to  startle  him;  this  withdrew  at  once, 
following  up  the  cry  of  another  of  its  kind. 

Each  living,  moving  thing  had  its  mate,  and  the 
two,  mutually  interested,  stood  apart  from  all  the  rest 
of  the  world.  This  was  nature's  law;  and  what  a 
simple  matter  was  its  operation  among  creatures. 
But  a  thousand  things  seemed  vexing  him!  Was 
there,  after  all,  a  higher  law — a  spiritual  law?  He  knew 
there  was.  The  moon  in  its  serenity  told  him  there 
was.  Did  the  moon  tell  the  same  story  to  everyone? 
In  this  strange  world  how  many  people  might  be 
looking  on  that  same  silver  half-disc  at  this  very 
moment!  Was  Marie  looking  at  it?  and  what  did  it 
tell  her? 

Somewhere  a  horse  whinnied,  oddly,  Perry  thought, 
and  then  a  cock  crew,  shrilly,  in  the  neighboring  hen- 
nery. He  wondered  if  some  of  the  help  were  already 
astir  at  the  barn.  But  that  could  not  be,  for  this  was 
Sunday  morning,  and  it  would  be  early  to  rise  at 
daylight. 

Then  another  question  rose  to  trouble  him.  Should 
he  continue  his  journey  on  the  Sabbath?  A  year  ago 
he  would  have  dismissed  it  with  a  ready — No!  Now 
there  seemed  reasons  why  he  might  continue  his  way; 
but  the  old  teachings  were  yet  strong  enough  to  make 
him  hesitate,  and  decision  was  put  off  for  a  time. 

He  fell  asleep  again,  and  was  awakened  by  a  com- 
motion in  the  house.  The  sun  was  up  now  nearly 


The  Wolverine 


where  he  had  seen  the  moon  before.  The  women  were 
talking  excitedly  below,  and  from  the  yard  Le 
Borgne's  queer  English  rose,  hardly  comprehensible, 
prompted  as  it  was  by  wrath  and  sore  vexation.  The 
little  man  of  Indian  adventures  appeared  with  head 
at  the  top  of  the  ladder. 

"Come,  George,"  he  called  to  one  of  Perry's  sleep- 
ing companions.  "You  can  thank  the  Lord  that 
your  horses  aren't  first-class  in  every  respect.  I  never 
realized  the  advantage  of  owning  a  poor  team  till 
now.  That  French  stage-driver's  had  his  best  span 
stolen!" 

"Old  Sile  Doty's  work,  I'll  swear!"  came  from  the 
burly  man  in  the  corner.  "I've  b'en  expectin'  to  hear 
from  him  ag'in.  He's  b'en  quiet  a  consid'able  spell." 

Everyone  was  up  in  a  few  minutes,  and  out  at  the 
stables.  Between  sun  and  sun  the  ground  had  frozen 
hard,  and  there  were  no  hoof-prints  to  mark  which 
way  the  thief  or  thieves  had  taken.  Perry  remem- 
bered the  noises  he  had  heard  in  the  night,  and  be- 
lieved the  horses  could  not  be  far  removed.  Mean- 
while, Le  Borgne  had  gone  on  a  third  horse  to  com- 
municate his  loss  to  the  Sheriff,  who  lived  two  or 
three  miles  away  on  a  cross-road. 

Till  the  officer  came,  very  little  would  be  done, 
except  to  tell  stories.  The  burly  man  knew  all  about 
Sile  Doty,  and  entertained  a  group  of  listeners  with 
anecdote  and  incident  till  they  were  summoned  to 
breakfast.  However  clever  the  thief  might  be,  their 
host  declared  the  Sheriff  would  prove  enough  for  him. 
Neither  generous  slices  of  fried  pork  nor  plates  well 
heaped  with  buckwheat  pan-cakes  appeared  to  retard 


The  Wolverine  H7 

conversation.  Perry  was  as  much  interested  in  the 
furtive  efforts  a  young  mother  made  to  hear  what  was 
said,  while  at  the  same  time  alternately  feeding  her- 
self and  the  child  in  her  lap,  and  guarding  the  swift 
little  hands  which  constantly  threatened  to  draw  all 
within  reach  to  the  floor. 

When  Perry  returned  to  the  farmyard  the  mellow 
sounds  of  a  church  bell  were  vibrating  on  the  clear, 
pure  air.  Le  Borgne  would  probably  make  no  effort 
to  get  away  that  day.  It  would  certainly  be  useless 
in  the  condition  the  roads  were  to  try  to  proceed 
short  of  four  horses.  Perry's  troublesome  question 
was  therefore  decided  outside  himself.  Next  time  he 
hoped  he  would  have  grace  sufficient  to  resist  the 
temptation  alone;  and,  as  an  atonement  for  his  morn- 
ing's weakness,  he  determined  to  attend  services  in  the 
neighboring  church. 

As  if  Providence  interposed  to  help  him  in  his  every 
effort  of  right,  the  landlord  came  at  that  moment  to 
harness  a  team — "so's  the  women-folks  kin  go  to 
meetin',"  he  explained  to  Perry.  "But  Sam  Hill!  I 
don't  want  'o  drive  'em  there,"  he  added.  "I  ought  'o 
stay  here  to  see  the  Sheriff  when  he  comes." 

"I'll  drive  them,"  volunteered  Perry. 

"I'll  be  much  obliged  if  you  will,"  the  other 
returned.  "An'  if  y'u'll  jest  hold  them  horses  now, 
I'll  go  in  an'  put  the  coals  into  the  foot-stoves.  I 
guess  'tain't  warm  'nough  so's  y'u  better  go  'thout 
them  yit." 

There  were  five  women  to  accompany  Perry  on  the 
three  seats,  which  were  put  across  the  box  of  the 
lumbering  wagon.  With  him  sat  the  young,  sweet- 


148  The  Wolverine 

faced  mother,  her  child  being  entrusted  to  those  on 
the  next  seat  back.  Her  husband  had  volunteered  to 
be  one  of  a  posse  to  pursue  the  horse-thieves,  and  she 
was  a  little  worried  for  his  safety.  She  talked  a  great 
deal  of  him  to  Perry,  and  her  marital  happiness  fed  his 
hungry  heart,  filling  him  with  sweet  hope  and  noble 
aspiration. 

When  they  returned  to  the  tavern,  after  the  services 
at  the  little  white  meeting-house,  the  men — save  one 
— were  gone  with  the  Sheriff.  The  landlord  and 
Perry  alone  remained  to  eat  dinner  with  the  women. 
But  in  the  afternoon,  as  news  of  the  theft  spread, 
farmers  came  from  all  directions,  to  learn  the  particu- 
lars of  the  crime,  and  to  offer  sage  advice  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  criminals.  There  was  no  lack  of 
society,  and  the  one  topic  never  grew  wearisome. 

So  long  as  the  sun  shone  the  men  remained  out  of 
doors  in  little  groups,  talking  and  idly  using  their 
pocket  knives.  "It  looks  like  town-meetin'  day/'  the 
landlady  remarked  to  one  of  her  guests,  after  glanc- 
ing from  the  window.  Whereupon  all  her  compan- 
ions rose  and  looked  into  the  yard,  each  of  the  twelve 
lights  framing  a  face. 

At  dark  the  Sheriff  and  his  posse  returned  from  a 
fruitless  chase.  Le  Borgne  had  moods  of  being  gloomy 
and  sullen,  from  which  he  would  rouse  into  angry 
garrulousness.  Le  diable  was  in  his  misfortune,  he 
would  declare,  as  he  had  slept  in  his  coach,  and  any- 
thing less  supernatural  could  not  have  committed  the 
crime  without  wakening  him.  Some  wit  suggested 
that  hereafter  he  must  sleep  with  one  eye  open,  and 
this  he  took  literally  and  seriously. 


The  Wolverine  H9 

"One  e'e  open  ees  eet?  Mere  de  Dieu!  how  will  I 
sleep  at  all,  when  I  have  but  one  e'e?" 

Another  evening  Perry  sat  before  the  hospitable 
fireplace  and  listened  to  country-side  talk  of  lands 
being  cleared,  rails  split,  crops  put  in,  house  raisings, 
Territorial  politics,  and  the  thousand  and  one  inci- 
dents of  pioneer  life. 

In  the  morning  Le  Borgne  hired  the  best  span  of 
horses  he  could  obtain,  and  putting  them  on  the  coach 
before  his  remaining  team,  the  journey  was  resumed. 
At  first  the  road  was  rough  and  frozen,  but  as  soon 
as  the  sun  smiled  on  the  earth  it  became  as  soft  and 
sticky  as  at  the  outset.  Through  persistent  effort,  and 
carefully  husbanding  the  strength  of  his  horses,  how- 
ever, Le  Borgne  succeeded  in  reaching  Monroe  at 
nightfall.  Perry  fell  asleep  in  comfortable  quarters 
in  the  new  hotel,  fancying  that  Marie  was  just  across 
the  river,  with  friends  among  the  older  French  set- 
tlers. 

He  had  thought  out  just  how  he  should  find  her 
in  the  morning.  He  had  but  to  ask  the  first  French- 
man kindly  to  direct  him  to  the  house  where  Marie 
Beaucceur  was  visiting.  His  courtly  reception,  the 
accent,  and  the  polite  way  in  which  he  would  be  con- 
ducted along  the  muddy  path  tp  some  odd,  steep- 
roofed,  dormer-windowed  dwelling  of  an  earlier  day, 
were  all  anticipated. 

"Ah,  Mees  Beaucceur!  Yez,"  said  Louis  Godfroy, 
smiling  and  showing  his  perfect  teeth;  and  thus  far 
it  had  all  come  about  as  Perry  had  foreseen.  "She 
waz  veeseeting  here.  But  she  ees  gone."  The  smile 
vanished  and  the  face  became  grave,  his  long  arms 


15°  The  Wolverine 

dropped  to  his  side — all  in  a  way  to  frighten  his  ques- 
tioner. "Zere  waz  a  deat' — some  person  ees  dead! 
An'  ze  demoiselles  zey  haf  departed  Sat'day  morning. 
Eet  waz  one  friend  near  ze  Beaucoeur  fameelee." 

Saturday  morning — that  was  the  day  he  had  left 
Detroit.  It  was  strange  he  had  heard  of  no  death. 
A  friend,  however,  and  not  a  relative  of  the  Beaucoeur 
family — he  might  have  heard  and  taken  no  note  of 
the  matter.  Somewhere  he  and  Marie  had  passed  on 
the  road;  probably  on  Sunday,  when  he  had  taken 
little  notice  of  people  coming  and  going  along  the 
highway,  so  many  had  called  at  the  country  tavern  to 
learn  of  the  horse-thieves. 

Only  one  thing  took  root  in  his  mind,  and  that 
was  to  get  back  to  Detroit  as  soon  as  possible.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  buying  a  stout  Canadian  pony, 
with  the  intention  of  taking  to  the  saddle  at  once, 
when  he  learned  that  the  channel  had  become  clear 
of  ice,  and  that  a  boat  was  about  to  leave  La  Plaisance 
Bay  for  Detroit.  The  passage  could  be  made  as  soon 
this  way,  and  would  be  far  pleasanter.  Instead  of 
buying,  therefore,  he  gave  the  owner  a  generous  sum 
for  the  use  of  his  shaggy  creature  as  far  as  the  Bay. 

In  an  hour  Perry  was  out  on  the  beautiful  blue 
waters  of  Lake  Erie,  with  a  northwest  wind  blowing 
him  toward  the  mouth  of  the  river.  It  was  rather 
early  in  the  season  as  yet,  but  venturesome  captains 
were  ready  and  willing  to  make  short  runs.  One 
rather  long  tack  was  necessary,  but  everything 
proved  smooth  sailing  till  the  very  mouth  of  the  river 
was  reached.  There  they  met  considerable  floating 
ice,  but  not  enough  to  stop  their  progress  till  they 


The  Wolverine  151 

were  opposite  Grosse  Isle,  when  the  little  schooner 
became  fast  in  an  extensive  floe. 

From  this  moment  they  began  drifting  back  with 
the  current,  utterly  unable  to  free  the  little  bark  from 
its  icy  surroundings.  There  was  no  immediate  danger, 
for  the  sky  was  clear  and  serene,  but  the  situation 
might  become  one  of  dire  peril  if  they  were  overtaken 
by  a  storm  before  parting  with  the  ice  that  fettered 
them.  Little  by  little,  they  lost  all  that  had  been 
gained,  till  once  more  they  were  out  on  the  broader 
waters  of  the  lower  lake.  The  prospects  brightened 
now,  for  the  ice  was  no  longer  forced  against  the  boat 
by  narrow  shores.  The  men  worked  with  great  hand- 
spikes, pushing  away  the  floating  cakes,  but  night 
overtook  them  before  they  succeeded  in  getting  the 
boat  free. 

Once,  while  they  were  yet  in  the  river,  Perry  had 
sought  to  make  his  way  ashore  over  the  grinding, 
crumbling  ice-jam.  As  they  were  then  but  a  few 
miles  below  the  city,  he  believed,  if  once  on  land,  he 
could  soon  make  his  way  back  to  town.  Twice  he 
fell,  and  was  sorely  bruised.  After  a  third  attempt, 
which  plunged  him  into  the  chilled  waters,  he  was 
compelled  to  return  to  the  boat,  glad  of  such  comforts 
as  were  afforded  by  the  small,  poorly-furnished  cabin. 

In  the  morning  the  ice  had  entirely  disappeared,  and 
sail  was  once  more  hoisted,  sending  the  little  bark 
en  its  way  under  a  spanking  breeze.  At  noon  they 
came  in  sight  of  La  Plaisance  Bay,  and  put  in  shore 
for  food  and  rest.  They  had  taken  provision  for  only 
a  day's  run,  but  had  already  been  out  thirty-six  hours, 


152  The  Wolverine 

and  the  small  crew  was  nearly  exhausted  with  con- 
tinuous work. 

Perry  was  thoroughly  discouraged,  and  as  a 
result  of  his  wetting,  suffered  from  a  cold.  He  was 
beginning  to  question  the  meaning  of  such  persistent 
misfortune  in  his  endeavors  to  see  Marie.  That  a 
special  Providence  watched  over  and  meted  out  every 
event  of  his  life,  was  still  a  habit  of  thought  with 
him.  But  as  the  captain  of  the  schooner  was  deter- 
mined to  make  a  second  attempt  to  reach  Detroit  on 
the  next  day,  Perry  resolved  to  cast  his  fortunes  with 
him  once  more. 

The  wind  came  from  a  more  favorable  quarter  with 
their  next  attempt,  but  it  was  fitful,  and  they  were 
often  becalmed  for  an  hour  at  a  time.  However,  they 
met  ice  but  occasionally,  and  not  in  quantities  to 
block  their  passage.  At  six  o'clock  the  little  schooner 
was  safely  moored  at  Barthelet's  wharf,  and  Perry 
was  again  in  the  familiar,  muddy  streets  of  the  old 
French  town. 

The  others  had  had  their  supper  when  he  reached 
his  boarding-place,  but  Mrs.  Rolland  set  out  a  lunch 
for  him,  first  having  administered  something  hot  for 
his  cold.  Then  she  hospitably  took  a  place  at  the 
table,  where  she  could  entertain  and  be  entertained. 
For  one  having  been  away  and  safely  returned  was 
sure  to  have  much  of  interest  ta  relate  if  he  could 
be  coaxed  into  the  right  humor.  To-night  Perry  was 
easily  led,  as  he  himself  had  questions  to  put;  and 
because  they  were  so  very  important  to  him,  it  seemed 
all  the  world  must  know  he  waited  to  ask  them. 

"Well,  now  it's  your  turn,  Mrs.  Rolland,"  said  he 


The  Wolverine  153 

in  a  hoarse  voice,  after  finishing  a  rather  detailed 
account  of  his  misadventures.  "What  births,  deaths, 
marriages,  wars,  and  rumors  of  war,  since  I  left?"  He 
drew  a  deep  breath,  this  speech  seeming  longer  than 
all  else  he  had  related. 

"I  dinna  ken  the'  hae  been  much,"  she  began  in 
rather  broader  Scotch  than  was  her  wont.  "For 
wars  and  rumors  of  war  the'  is  naething.  Nor  do  I 
mind  bearths  nor  mearriages.  The'  hae  been  a  funeral 
— a  French  wan,  that  brought  oot  all  o'  the  pony 
carts  o'  the  toon." 

Perry's  heart  beat  faster  than  its  normal  while  he 
waited  for  her  to  proceed. 

"I  dinna  ken  the  boody.  He  was  drooned  in  the 
lake  above  here.  The  Indians  were  quarrelit  in  the 
canoe,  and  he  made  fine  to  separate  them.  The  canoe 
was  upset,  and  in  the  icy  waters  the  Frenchman  took 
a  cramp  and  was  drooned.  His  name — it  seems  to 
me — was  Eighteen  Baddeau — or  some  such  ootland- 
ish  number." 

Etienne  Baddeau — Perry  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief, 
and  helped  himself  to  more  cold  meat  when  a  moment 
before  he  thought  he  had  eaten  a  great  plenty.  Ah, 
yes,  the  Baddeaus  and  the  Beaucceurs  were  very  inti- 
mate. French  funerals  were  always  well  attended, 
and  a  member  of  one  of  the  first  families  would  be 
shown  unusual  marks  of  respect; 

Etienne  Baddeau — he  had  heard  Marie  speak  the 
name.  It  was  only  a  name  to  Perry.  He  little 
dreamed  then — nor  did  he  ever  know — the  part  the 
death  played  in  his  life's  history. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

TO  feel  that  one  has  a  sure  refuge  and  then  sud- 
denly to  have  that  refuge  snatched  away,  is 
perplexing  in  the  most  ordinary  circumstances; 
but  if  the  catastrophe  come  at  a  time  of  vital  need, 
the  refugee  is  driven  to  so  strange  and  desperate 
measures  that  one  may  question  the  sanity  of  a  mind 
operating  under  such  tense  conditions. 

Within  a  limited  circle  it  was  known  that  Etienne 
Baddeau  had  repeatedly  asked  Marie  to  become  his 
wife.  It  was  also  known  that  she  had  refused  him. 
But  within  this  circle  report  had  gained  credence  dur- 
ing the  last  months  that  in  the  end  the  two  would  be 
united,  and  that  Father  Richard  was  to  announce  the 
bans  in  the  early  spring.  A  few  friends  therefore  were 
prepared  with  an  explanation  for  any  strange  emotion 
Marie  might  show  after  so  sudden  and  dire  calamity; 
but  when  she  rallied  within  a  week  and  declared  her 
intention  to  attend  a  ball  given  at  the  home  of  the 
Chief  Justice,  they  looked  shocked,  shrugged  their 
shoulders  with  an  uncanny  air,  and  murmured  some- 
thing that  contained  the  word  alienee. 

"Why,  Marie!  is  it  quite  proper?"  asked  astonished 


The  Wolverine  155 

Claire,  who,  though  forced  by  every  canon  of  good 
society  to  put  the  question,  was,  in  her  heart,  grieved 
at  the  prospect  of  missing  this  gay  occasion.  "What 
will  people  say?" 

"People?  Why  should  people  question?  We  were 
not  affianced.  Have  I  not  told  you  I  did  not  love 
him — as — as  you  think?  Is  one  to  mourn  for  a  friend 
always?  I  shall  not  dance.  But  I  must  go  to  the 
ball.  I  must!" 

Her  face  was  strangely  pale,  with  a  firmness  about 
the  lips  that  was  unusual.  Some  fixed  purpose  seemed 
burning  in  the  depths  of  her  dark  eyes.  "Marie,  you 
have  acted  oddly  enough!  What  is  the  matter?  I 
fear  you  are — are —  What  shall  I  say?" 

Claire  did  not  dare  utter  the  word  which  some 
had  already  whispered  behind  Marie's  back. 

"Crazy!  Why  do  you  not  say  it,  ma  cousine?  Per- 
haps I  shall  be!  But  not  yet — not  yet!  See — look  at 
me  now."  By  an  effort  all  the  lines  of  her  face 
relaxed,  tranquillity  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  a  smile 
of  peace  seemed  forming  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
"Is  one  crazy  when  one  can  look  like  this?" 

With  steady  purpose  she  came  to  Claire  and  put 
her  arms  about  her  neck,  kissing  her  slowly  several 
times,  meeting  her  eyes  between  these  demonstra- 
tions with  a  calm,  even  gaze. 

"Mon  Dieu,  I  do  not  know.  It  is  acting  that  you 
may  do  and  nobody  can  know,"  Claire  said,  bringing 
herself  slowly  to  accede  to  her  cousin's  strange  deter- 
mination. "It  will  make  talk.  •  But  if  you  do  not 
dance,  I  can  say  you  came  on  my  account,  as  I  am 
soon  to  go  home.  Monsieur  le  gouverneur  will  be 


156  The  Wolverine 

there,  and  the  dances  he  would  give  you,  maybe  I 
shall  get.    Eh  bien,  what  shall  you  wear?" 

"The  black  silk— what  think  you?" 

Claire  gave  her  shoulders  a  shrug  that  might  have 
said,  "It  is  all  irregular,  so  what  matters  one  thing 
more?"  But  she  did  say,  "The  black  is  very  becom- 
ing, ma  chere.  It  makes  you  quite  striking;  you  are 
pale  so  much  of  the  time  since — since " 

"Ah,  I  know — I  know.  But  do  not  throw  it  at  me! 
Is  it  not  that  I  would  forget?"  And  she  sought  a 
chair  suddenly,  quite  exhausted.  "Claire,  is  everyone 
watching  me?  Sometimes  I  think  they  are.  And 
why  is  it?  What  have  I  said  or  done?" 
»  "Marie,  you  are  ill.  You  must  not  go  to  this  ball." 

"No,  I  am  not  ill,"  she  replied,  rising  with  a  strange 
show  of  strength.  "And  I  shall  not  be — unless  you 
make  me  so  by  your  words.  If  I  were  ill  you  would 
not  cross  me  with  other  wishes.  Then  let  it  go  that 
I  am  ill.  Ill  or  not  ill,  I  will  be  humored.  Then  I  shall 
wear  the  black  silk.  What  will  you  wear?" 

With  her  plans  for  the  evening's  entertainment 
Claire  continually  interjected  some  feeble  protest.  But 
Marie's  was  the  leading  spirit,  and  it  required  but  a 
look  from  her  to  silence  these  half-hearted  objections. 
Then  she  had  only  to  continue  with  some  talk  of 
Mason  to  strengthen  herself  in  each  new  stand,  dissi- 
pating Claire's  opposition  as  vapor  is  blown  away  by 
the  wind.  Once  when  they  were  in  their  own  room 
under  the  low  roof,  with  dresses  spread  out  on  the 
bed,  Marie  had  left  all  and  gone  to  the  dormer-win- 
dow looking  off  toward  town. 


The  Wolverine  15? 

"Since — since  the  play,  Claire,  how  long  is  it?"  she 
had  asked,  moving  her  hand  across  her  brow. 

"The  play — it  is  nearly  a  fortnight  ago.  This  is 
Wednesday,  and  it  was  on  a  Thursday,  and  not  the 
last  one.  Ciel!  I  do  not  wonder.  So  much  has  hap- 
pened. I  myself  must  stop  and  count  the  days  on  my 
fingers,  or  I  cannot  tell." 

"Strange,"  Marie  murmured,  her  eyes  fastened  on 
a  brick  house  a  little  to  the  right  of  Ste.  Anne's  five 
spires.  "I  have  not  seen  him  since  then."  Louder, 
she  said  to  Claire:  "Monsieur  le  gouverneur  was  at 
the — the  funeral,  ma  cousine,  did  you  not  say?  Was 
he  alone?  Were  there  not  others  of  the  new  people 
there?  Was  not  Mr.  North  there?  Do  you  know  I 
have  not  seen  him  since  the  play!" 

She  turned  on  Claire  a  face  of  indifferent  surprise, 
but  maintained  it  only  a  moment.  When  she  resumed 
her  study  of  the  landscape,  her  fingers  bore  heavily 
on  the  sash,  leaving  the  nails  white  and  bloodless  at 
their  tips. 

"Monsieur  le  gouverneur  was  there,"  answered 
Claire, — but  she  was  thinking,  "Now  if  I  had  spoken 
of  the  funeral!  Ah,  it  is  useless  to  understand  her!" 
Claire's  words,  however,  continued:  "And  there  were 
others  present,  not  French.  But  I  do  not  recall  Mr. 
North's  head." 

"Head?" 

"Les  cheveux  d'or.  It  is  so  striking,  I  should  have 
seen  and  remembered  it.  Ah,  here  is  one  tiny  rip  in 
your  waist.  I  will  fetch  thread  and  mend  it,"  Claire 
interjected,  springing  to  her  feet  and  pirouetting  from 
the  room.  "  'A  stitch  in  time  saves  nine,' "  she  mur- 


158  The  Wolverine 

mured,  the  words  of  her  English  copy-book  running 
through  her  mind. 

"He  will  be  there!  he  will  be  there  to-night!" 
repeated  Marie  to  herself,  as  she  heard  Claire's  steps 
receding  down  the  hall.  "And  I  will  do  it.  I  will  do 
it.  I  must!  I  cannot  go  on  this  way!  I  shall  indeed 
be  crazy — and  they  will  all  know  why!  Ah,  Mere 
de  Dieu,  why  was  Etienne  taken  away  from  me?  I 
should  have  loved  him  in  time.  And  now  I  must 
hate — I  must  hate,  despise,  and  drive  out  love!" 

She  turned  away  from  the  window  with  her  hand 
clasped  to  her  side,  and  threw  herself  on  the  bed  with 
face  buried  in  the  pillow — but  not  to  cry. 

"0,  how  full  of  briars!"  she  repeated,  with  a  dry 
sob.  "If  one  might  believe  his  religion!  Saints  for- 
give me — what  am  I  saying!  I  will  hate  him!  I  will 
hate  him!  Mere  de  Dieu,  help  me.  Ah,  do  I  not  hate 
him  now?  The  heretic!  Did  he  not  kiss  me  twice 
on  the  lips? — and  not  one  thought  of  me  since!  But 
I  made  him  do  it — ah!  And  I  will  do  more  to-night. 
He  is  weak — weaker  than  all,  if  I  but  knew  the  truth. 
To-night " 

Claire  was  returning  along  the  hall,  and  Marie  flew 
to  the  window,  where  she  could  hide  her  face  till  its 
features  were  once  more  under  control. 

It  was  already  late  for  a  call  when  Perry  knocked 
at  the  Beaucceur  door.  He  had  grudged  every 
moment  spent  with  his  landlady  after  having  found 
out  all  he  wished  to  know,  yet  for  some  reason  he  had 
felt  unable  to  break  away  at  once.  Then  he  had  made 
an  entire  change  in  his  clothing,  had  shaved  himself 


The  Wolverine  159 

— an  item  he  had  omitted  in  the  morning  because  of 
the  rough  sea  running  at  the  time  of  taking  his  razor 
in  hand.  It  was  Madame  Beaucceur  who  answered 
his  appeal  with  the  brass  knocker. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  North!  Entrez.  Eet  haf  been 
mooch  tang  seence  we  haf  seen  monsieur/'  And  she 
begged  him  to  be  seated  in  the  dimly-lighted  room. 

Presently  her  husband  entered  with  courtly  tread, 
and  wished  the  young  man  bon  soir.  "Ah,  I  not  t'ink 
you  would  be  here  zees  evening.  I  haf  myself  just 
returned  from  monsieur  le  justice.  Ze  demoiselles  zey 
would  go  to  ze  ball,  and  I  tak'  'em  in  ze  cariole.  Ah, 
ze  road  zey  are  ver'  mooch  mud." 

From  that  moment  Perry  was  not  easy  till  he  could 
bid  them  a  decent  good  evening.  It  was  fully  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  back  to  his  room,  but  he  was 
rewarded  on  reaching  it,  by  finding  what  he  hoped — 
the  invitation  to  the  Justice's,  which  before  he  had 
not  spared  time  to  examine.  A  change  of  boots  was 
again  necessary,  for  mud  had  ruined  the  polish  on 
the  ones  he  wore.  Adjusting  his  stock  once  more, 
with  a  final  look  at  his  yellow  hair  in  the  glass  over 
his  bureau,  he  set  out  again.  It  was  nearly  eleven 
o'clock  when  his  name  was  announced  in  the  soft 
radiance  of  tapers  that  burned  in  the  well-appointed 
reception  room. 

A  babel  of  tongues  fell  on  his  ears,  with  now  and 
then  a  voice  above  the  others  that  he  recognized,  and 
his  mind  at  once  mechanically  registered  the  fact  that 
such  a  person  was  present.  There  were  the  same 
faces  which,  by  this  time,  he  had  learned  to  expect  to 
find  at  these  social  gatherings;  but  nowhere  did  he 


160  The  Wolverine 

see  Marie.  The  desire  to  push  on  from  room  to  room 
in  search  of  her  was  feverish  with  him,  but  friends 
continually  blocked  his  path  with  greetings.  Elva 
Webber  was  the  first  to  detain  him — a  thing  she 
never  would  have  done  had  she  known  his  mind.  All 
her  rare  elegance  and  queenly  bearing  did  not  com- 
pensate for  those  moments  which  politeness  com- 
pelled him  to  give  her.  She  had  not  seen  or  heard 
him  at  her  aunt's,  and  did  not  know  he  had  returned 
from  his  journey.  In  his  heart  Perry  blessed  Colonel 
Campbell  when  he  came  and  claimed  the  beauty  for 
a  dance. 

Next  he  stumbled  upon  Major  Hadley,  who  insisted 
on  telling  him  all  about  a  gold  pen  which  a  jeweller 
in  the  town  had  just  perfected.  He  was  fulsome  in 
praise  of  the  man's  cleverness,  and  discoursed  at  great 
length  on  the  saving  of  time  that  would  result  to  busy 
scribes  by  this  invention.  Half  his  hours,  he  declared, 
were  spent  in  sharpening  quills.  At  last  Perry 
escaped  him  also,  and  speedily  forgot  all  that  had  been 
poured  into  his  ears. 

Prompted  by  some  abnormal  delight  in  self-tor- 
ture, his  mind  kept  up  a  continual  cross-fire,  while 
he  searched  for  Marie  and  her  cousin.  "They  have 
gone;  it  is  so  late!  You  have  missed  her  again.  Are 
you  not  convinced  now  that  you  are  never  to  see 
her?  Why  do  you  try?"  Then  he  caught  sight  of 
Claire,  and  a  second  spirit  within  began  taunting  the 
first.  "You  see  they  are  not  gone/'  it  said.  "I  shall 

find  her  in  another  moment.  Ah!  when  I  do " 

"When  you  do,  be  a  gentleman!"  twitted  the  first 


The  Wolverine  161 

voice.  "Remember  the  play!"  This  gave  him  a  fit  of 
bad  humor. 

"Monsieur  is  searching  for  someone?" 

Marie  had  touched  his  arm  from  the  back,  and 
spoken  before  he  saw  her.  He  gave  a  start.  No  won- 
der he  had  not  found  her  sooner.  He  had  never 
seen  her  in  black  before.  It  gave  him  an  uncanny 
sensation. 

"Yes,  I  was  looking  for  you,"  he  replied.  "I  have 
been  looking  for  you  for  two  weeks!" 

"I  have  not  been  hiding." 

Her  face  was  pale,  but  the  color  was  coming  back 
to  it  under  his  words.  He  remembered  she  had  called 
him  "monsieur."  It  was  the  address  he  had  liked 
from  her  lips  from  the  first.  He  had  associated  it  and 
the  English  equivalent  with  the  significance  that  the 
French  give  to  thou  and  you.  There  was  a  strange, 
womanly  appeal  in  her  manner  as  she  addressed  him. 
The  tone  of  her  second  speech  seemed  to  carry  a 
tender  reproach. 

"Nevertheless,  I  could  not  find  you.  Fate — of 
something — has  been  against  me.  Even  to-night  I 
have  been  at  your  home." 

"You  have  a  cold,"  she  said,  with  a  solicitude  that 
warmed  his  heart.  "Been  at  our  house!  I  thought 
you  had  forgotten  the  way." 

"I  wonder  if  you  know  how  many  times  I  have 
been  there,  and  found  you  away  from  home?" 

"Ah,  yes.  We  have  been  to  Monroe.  I  forget 
things." 

"I  have  been  to  Monroe,  too,"  he  replied. 

"You?    I  did  not  know  that."    She  seemed  to  think 


1 62  The  Wolverine 

this  very  strange.  "No  one  told  me  that.  Why  did 
you  go  to  Monroe?" 

"To  see  you,"  he  answered. 

So  noisy  was  the  general  merriment  they  could  say 
these  few  words  easily  and  not  be  overheard.  His 
confession  started  a  cough  that  had  begun  to  trouble 
him  since  dark. 

"Ah,  your  cold!  How  did  you  get  it?"  Her  face 
reflected  a  real  concern. 

With  no  attempt  to  disguise  his  feelings,  Perry 
told  what  desperate  efforts  he  had  made  to  reach  her. 
His  story  had  a  strange  effect  on  Marie.  Her  manner 
at  once  showed  signs  of  agitation.  Reproach  deep- 
ened in  her  eyes — as  if  he  might  be  the  cause  of  some 
cruel  torture.  Again,  she  looked  at  him  furtively, 
as  one  about  to  bid  farewell  to  some  cherished  object 
and  must  hide  every  tender  emotion  in  doing  so.  Her 
hands  were  repeatedly  clasped  and  unclasped.  Perry 
questioned  her  once  when  her  lips  were  moving,  but 
Marie  declared  she  had  said  nothing. 

A  deep  scarlet  burned  in  either  cheek  now,  and  her 
eyes  bore  frightened  glances.  People  were  collecting 
near  them,  though  as  yet  the  two  were  ignored.  Perry 
longed  for  some  quiet,  secluded  nook  into  which  he 
might  retreat  with  her. 

"Can't  we  go  somewhere?"  he  asked,  and  offering 
her  his  arm,  they  moved  away. 

"Ah,  not  out  there!"  she  cried,  as  he  led  her  toward 
the  open  veranda.  "You  will  take  more  cold.  You 
should  have  some  medicine.  Ah,  if  I  were  only  at 
home!" 

"Let  me  take  you  there,"  Perry  entreated. 


The  Wolverine  163 

"No,  no,"  she  repeated,  with  unexplained  alarm. 
"I  cannot  leave  Claire.  And  she  is  not  ready  to  go 
yet.  But  come  this  way.  Jeanette  Coutelier  works 
in  the  kitchen  here.  I  will  get  something  of  her." 

A  new  note  had  come  into  mademoiselle's  tone 
which  caused  Perry  a  moment's  wonder.  Her  lips 
were  pale  and  set  in  lines  of  determination,  but  as 
she  preceded  him  he  did  not  see  this  change.  Besides, 
so  much  could  be  hidden  in  the  charm  of  her  promised 
administrations.  Jeanette  gave  Marie  a  glass  and 
some  bottles  in  answer  to  questions  spoken  low  in 
French,  and  directed  her  where  to  find  hot  water. 
Then,  as  duties  called  the  serving  girl  elsewhere, 
the  two  were  left  alone. 

Marie's  face  once  more  flushed  with  hidden  feeling, 
though  outwardly  she  was  no  more  excited  than 
Perry.  A  fire  was  burning  in  the  room,  and  she  bade 
him  come  and  sit  by  it.  Taking  a  place  near  his  side, 
she  began  the  concoction  of  some  mixture.  She 
talked  rapidly,  directing  the  conversation. 

"Everyone  says  our  play  was  a  great  success.  But 
it  is  not  that  I  want  to  talk  of.  I  think  you  owe  me 
an  apology  for — for " 

"I  know  what  you  mean.  That  is  what  I  wanted  to 
see  you  for.  I  have  wanted  to  make  some  explana- 
tion. I  have  not  had  one  moment's  rest  since  that 
night.  If  it  had  not  been  for  my — that  is — if  I  had 

not — why,  it  was  because  I  loved  you,  I  mean " 

he  stammered. 

"Ah,  drink  this!"  she  interjected.  "It  is  just  right 
now.  Your  voice  sounds  like  a  frog's.  I  should  not 
know  it." 


164  The  Wolverine 

She  held  the  steaming  glass  to  his  lips,  her  fingers 
lightly  brushing  his  cheek.  They  were  cold  as  death. 
He  drank  all  from  her  hand  without  a  question;  and 
at  once  she  began  preparing  a  second  mixture. 

"It  will  drive  the  cold  out,"  she  said,  meeting  his 
eyes  a  moment. 

"Marie,  you  are  all  a-tremble!  And  your  hands 
are  like  ice!" 

"It  is  nothing.  But  I  will  take  some  of  the  drink, 
too,"  she  replied.  "Eh  bien,  we  do  interrupt  the 
apology.  I  promise  monsieur  I  shall  be  very  exact- 
ing. It  is  a  pound  of  flesh  I  will  have,  as  it  is  enumer- 
ated in  the  bond.  Have  you  never  thought  that  I 
am  a  very  Shylock  in  my  nature?  Look  across  my 
nose — beaked,  is  it  not?" 

"Hush,  Marie!  You  shall  not  slander  yourself  in 
my  presence.  Shylock!  You  are  no  more  like  that 
monster  than  day  is  like  night.  I  know  you  have  a 
most  tender  heart,  though  you  do  not  wear  it  on  your 
sleeve.  It  is  hard  to  find  you  out;  but  one  is  repaid 
a  thousandfold  when  one  does.  I  think  you  love  to 
play  a  part,  and  you  do  it  so  well  that  I  sometimes 
doubt.  But  if  there  was  no  wickedness  in  my  own 
heart,  I  should  never  doubt  you  one  moment." 

"Wickedness!  Ah,  I  thought  monsieur  was  a  very 
priest  for  goodness!  Then  monsieur  is  very  wicked 
too, — in  what  way?  Monsieur  is  not  so  clever  in 
pleading  his  suit.  Did  he  say  he  loved  me?  And  does 
he  wish  me  to  love  in  return?  Ah,  I  cannot  love  a 
wicked  man.  Monsieur  sees  that  he  is  not  clever." 

"No,  Marie,  I  dare  not  ask  you  to  love  me.  But  do 
not  think  too  basely  of  me  for  the  way  I  have  acted. 


The  Wolverine  165 

I  am  not  clever,  I  know.  If  I  were,  I  would  compel 
you  to  love  me,  even  as  I  love  you.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  must  compel  you  to  love  me — out  of  sheer  madness. 
This  love  does  not  excuse  my  action,  but  it  is  the 
best  apology  I  can  make." 

"It  is  the  common  excuse,"  she  replied,  with  a 
sigh  that  was  not  all  pretense.  "But  it  does  not  sat- 
isfy the  bond.  And  I  am  a  very  Shylock.  If  you  had 
said  your  action  was  all  a  part  of  the  play — I  think 
I  could  have  forgiven  you.  It  was  so  perfect.  But  to 

take  advantage  of  a  play — of  me  in  a  play Does 

not  monsieur  see?  There  goes  that  cough  again !  Ciel 
— here!"  And  she  put  the  second  glass  to  his  lips, 
and  he  drained  it  with  childlike  trust. 

"Your  hands,  Marie!    Will  they  never  get  warm?" 

He  began  rubbing  them,  but  she  would  not  permit 
this  more  than  an  instant. 

"Ah,  you  drank  that  when  it  was  for  me!"  she 
reproached  him.  "Now  I  must  mix  another.  Mon- 
sieur said  he  was  very  wicked.  But  he  did  not  tell  me 
in  what  way.  Perhaps  he  is  promised  to  another. 
But  that  may  be  mended.  It  is  not  too  late.  And 
when  I  am  in  a  nunnery  I  will  pray  for  his  happiness 
day  and  night." 

"God  forbid!  Marie,  what  is  it  you  are  saying?"  He 
was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  "I  am  going  to  make  a 
Protestant  of  you.  Am  I  promised  to  another!  What 
is  it  you  say?  What  can  you  think  of  me — that  you 
say  such  things?  Is  it  because  of  that — that  at  the 
play?  I  knew  it  would  be  so!  You  do  not  trust  me 
— and  I  have  but  myself  to  blame.  Heaven  is  my  wit- 
ness—  I  never  loved  but  you.  I  didn't  think  it  so 


166  The  Wolverine 

wrong  then — that  night!  It  all  came  to  me  afterward. 
If  I  have  forfeited  your  respect  I  have  paid  dearly 
for  my  madness." 

"Ah,  I  do  not  say  you  have  forfeited  my  respect. 
One  may  slip  once  and  be  forgiven.  Were  it  not 
so,  I  think  there  would  be  none  to  go  to  Heaven." 

"But  tell  me,  Marie!  You  do  not  think  of  going 
into  a  nunnery?" 

"I  do  think  it,  sometimes.  Claire  says  black  is 
very  becoming  to  me.  What  does  monsieur  think?" 
And  she  gave  him  one  of  those  looks  that  created 
doubt  in  his  mind. 

"My  God,  Marie,"  he  groaned,  "is  this  trifling? ' 
And  then  he  coughed  so  hard  further  speech  was 
impossible. 

In  the  midst  of  this  paroxysm  she  completed  the 
third  mixture,  and  presented  it  to  his  lips  with  a  look 
that  won  a  momentary  return  of  his  confidence  in 
spite  of  the  shock  it  had  just  received.  He  took  a 
swallow — and  then  her  triumph  ended.  Did  he  really 
see  the  sinister  gleam  in  her  eye,  or  had  the  fumes  of 
hot  whiskey  so  quickly  unsettled  his  brain? 

"Woman!  what  do  you  mean?"  he  cried  hoarsely, 
and  struck  the  half-emptied  glass  from  her  hands.  He 
seemed  to  read  a  weak  confession  of  something  hor- 
rible in  every  line  of  her  wonderfully  beautiful  face. 
In  his  moments  of  religious  introspection  he  had 
sometimes  questioned  why  he  should  not  be  among 
the  damned.  Suddenly,  he  seemed  there,  lured  to  the 
very  brink  of  the  pit.  Marie,  incarnation  of  all  that 
oriental  imagery,  was  the  strange  woman  whom  his 


The  Wolverine  167 

Bible  warned  him  against.  With  a  groan  he  fled  as 
he  would  save  his  soul. 

"Saints  in  Heaven!  what  have  I  done?"  exclaimed 
Marie  in  French,  her  face  blanching,  while  she 
dropped  back  into  the  chair  Perry  had  just  vacated. 
The  next  instant,  with  outstretched  arms  and  a  cry 
of  agony,  she  flew  toward  the  door  through  which 
he  had  disappeared.  But  she  took  only  a  step.  Jean- 
ette  Coutelier,  coming  into  the  kitchen,  screamed  at 
the  sight  of  Marie  prostrate  on  the  floor.  Her  cry 
brought  Mason  and  Claire  from  the  next  room. 

"Good  God!"  cried  the  Governor,  taking  the 
unconscious  form  in  his  arms.  "She  is  ill.  Call 
Doctor  Houghton  here  at  once!" 

Then  Marie  opened  her  eyes.  "What  have  I 
done?"  she  repeated,  at  sight  of  Mason's  face  bend- 
ing over  her.  She  brushed  her  hands  across  her 
eyes.  "Ah,  sirrah,  a  body  would  think  this  was  well 
counterfeited,"  she  murmured  faintly,  in  confusion. 
"What  is  the  matter?"  she  questioned  again,  turning 
a  dazed  look  on  those  standing  about. 

"You  fainted,  Marie,"  said  the  Governor,  a  note 
of  tenderness  marking  his  voice. 

"Mon  Dieu,"  cried  Claire;  "I  shall  not  forgive  my- 
self. She  was  ill  before  we  left  home,  and  ought 
never  to  have  come!" 

"Ah,  she  was  ill  here,  a  moment  ago.  She  asked 
me  for  medicine — the  whiskey,"  explained  Jeanette, 
wringing  her  hands.  "A  gentleman  brought  her 
here.  Les  cheveux  d'or " 

"Monsieur  North !"  said  Claire.    "But  we  must  take 


1 68  The  Wolverine 

her  home  at  once.  Monsieur  mon  oncle  is  he  not 
come  for  us  yet?" 

"I  think  not,  Miss  Navarre/'  someone  replied. 
"But  you  may  have  our  cart,  and  I  will  drive  for  you." 

Claire  accepted  this  offer;  and  a  few  minutes  later 
a  little  cavalcade  made  its  way  through  the  night 
and  mud  toward  the  Beaucceur  home,  attended  by 
the  Governor  and  Doctor  Houghton  on  foot.  On  the 
robes  which  covered  the  bottom  of  the  cart,  Marie 
half  reclined,  her  head  pillowed  against  her  cousin's 
shoulder.  Claire  continually  questioned  her,  feeling 
of  her  hands,  which  were  like  ice,  then  of  her  brow, 
which  was  pulsating  feverishly. 

"If  I  do  not  hate  him — he  will  hate  me — he  does 
hate  me  now!"  Marie  murmured,  incoherently.  "I 
might  have  married  and  loved  him  in  time.  Mon 
Dieu,  why  was  he  drowned?  I  should  not  have  been 
driven  to  this!" 

"We  are  driving  you  home,  Marie,  chere.  Do  you 
not  know?  Ah,  you  will  be  better  when  I  have  put 
you  to  bed."  To  herself  Claire  murmured:  "Saints 
forgive  me  that  I  ever  let  her  come!  She  is  not  in 
her  right  mind!  Etienne  hate  her?  She  talks  as  if 
he  were  yet  alive!  I  do  believe  me,  she  loved  him  all 
the  time.  Some  demoiselles  behave  this  way,  I  have 
read.  Mere  de  Dieu,  I  hope  I  have  more  sense!" 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE  battle  of  Perry's  life  was  on  him.  The 
most  of  that  night  he  spent  in  strife,  roaming 
aimlessly,  sometimes  staggering,  along  the 
narrow,  muddy,  dark  streets  of  Detroit.  He  could  not 
calm  himself  enough  to  go  to  his  rooms  and  lie  down. 
His  very  limbs  seemed  possessed  of  a  frenzy;  there 
was  a  madness  to  be  going — on,  on,  it  mattered  not 
whither  so  there  was  motion.  The  wild  swinging  of 
arms  was  a  relief.  Could  he  but  climb  some  height 
and  fling  himself  off — not  to  death,  but  to  feel  the 
swift  passage  through  the  air  for  a  day,  a  week,  a 
lifetime  or  till  he  caught  up  with  something  that 
had  left  him,  that  had  gone  on  with  great  strides 
while  he  had  lagged.  This  was  the  impulse  that 
urged  him  forward. 

The  hushed,  sombre  houses  that,  like  blind  men, 
knew  of  his  movements  but  saw  them  not,  seemed  to 
follow  him  with  a  blank  face  of  inquiry;  dumb,  yet 
wondering.  And  the  wall  that  held  him  from  totter- 
ing to  the  ground  when  his  insane  progress  was  stayed 
by  exhaustion — did  it  not  feel  pity?  The  very  swine 
which  he  startled  from  muddy,  roadside  wallows, 


17°  The  Wolverine 

refrained  from  anger,  and  grunted  a  sort  of  com- 
miseration after  the  demented  figure  that  stalked 
away  in  the  still  shadows  of  the  night. 

Stumbling  along  the  river  bank,  he  hit  upon  a 
'  canoe,  and  forthwith  the  water  seemed  to  beckon  with 
a  hand  outstretched  that  promised  rest  and  peace. 
But  deception  met  him  here  also.  Peace  evidently 
was  not  within  his  reach;  it  lay  beyond  the  stars  that, 
unmoved,  twinkled  in  the  blue-black  depths  overhead. 
Their  reflection  in  the  placid  current  had  played  him 
false.  Everything  was  false,  false,  false!  He  let  the 
word  ring  in  his  ears  as  he  paddled  with  erratic  stroke 
back  to  the  land.  His  brain  was  afire  with  memories 
which  burned  to  witness  against  Marie — the  false, 
fair  creature  of  perdition!  Every  moment  of  doubt 
in  the  past  came  crowding  upon  him,  and  he  won- 
dered how  he  had  had  any  faith  in  her  at  all. 

Exhausted,  as  the  pale  light  of  day  was  showing 
in  the  east,  Perry  slunk  to  his  rooms,  a  pitiable  sight, 
haggard  in  face,  clothing  spattered  with  mud,  and 
bedraggled  generally.  His  early  pride — the  tall,  bell- 
crowned  hat — was  crushed,  and  as  shaggy  in  appear- 
ance as  a  French  pony  after  a  long,  hard  winter. 
Ambition  was  gone.  The  meaning  had  been  knocked 
out  of  things.  All  the  body  wanted  was  some  place 
to  crawl  to,  and  there  die.  Death  came  in  the  form 
of  sleep,  and  a  resurrection  into  new  life  followed. 
However,  it  was  anything  but  a  life  of  bliss. 

Perry  went  perfunctorily  to  work  cleaning  up  his 
clothing.  Later,  he  tried  to  apply  himself  to  the 
drafting  of  paper  cities,  which  was  so  much  a  part 
of  the  business  life  of  that  time.  Other  hours  he 


The  Wolverine  171 

spent  in  the  attic  over  his  invention,  but  for  days  and 
weeks  there  was  little  joy  in  work  of  any  kind.  In 
his  sub-consciousness,  voices  continually  reviewed 
the  long-pending  question  of  Marie  Beaucceur.  The 
old,  sweet  image  of  her  face  had  a  gloating  look  now. 
All  she  had  cared  for  was  to  exercise  her  power  over 
him;  and  at  the  last  this  had  descended  to  something 
almost  diabolical. 

Marie  had  seized  upon  his  cold  as  an  opportunity 
to  make  him  drunk.  She  knew  he  had  pledged  himself 
to  abstinence.  And  the  breaking  of  this  pledge  was 
her  pleasure,  her  triumph.  What  a  spirit  was  that! 
Gods  and  men!  And  once  he  had  loved  her! 

But  the  poison  was  not  all  in  Marie.  There  was 
much  in  his  own  breast.  He  had  fled  from  her  with 
the  thought  of  saving  his  soul.  Not  until  now  did 
he  realize  how  recent  studies  had  undermined  his 
religious  faith.  It  was  well  enough  to  read  for  infor- 
mation how  certain  minds  found  in  Nature  no  place 
for  a  Providence,  no  evidence  of  a  God  such  as  he 
had  always  believed  in  and  worshipped;  but  when 
suddenly  his  own  experience  gave  the  same  outlook 
— then  it  was  that  the  very  heavens  seemed  about 
to  fall. 

For  days  life  was  not  worth  the  living — and  this 
life  was  really  all,  he  had  concluded.  What  a  horrible 
farce  it  was!  How  could  even  a  philosopher  find  any- 
thing in  it  to  praise?  A  philosopher — and  who  was 
your  true  philosopher?  Was  he  not  the  young  man 
who  gets  such  sweets  as  he  can  in  each  passing 
moment,  with  never  a  question  of  others'  rights,  of 
conscience,  or  of  aught  but  his  own  good  pleasure? 


i72  The  Wolverine 

He  knew  more  than  one  such  jolly  good  fellow,  with 
never  a  dull  care  in  this  world,  and  always  bent  on 
some  new  sport.  There  were  a  number  in  the  Bradies, 
and  he  had  sometimes  been  the  butt  of  their  jokes 
because  he  chose  to  lead  a  different  life. 

A  gay  party  of  these  bon-vivants  invited  him  to 
join  them  on  an  evening  at  this  time.  Perry  was  in 
the  mood  to  make  the  experiment,  and  accepted  their 
hospitality.  There  was  a  resort  known  as  "The 
Shades"  to  which  they  repaired  to  make  a  night  of 
gaming,  feasting,  and  drinking.  He  tried  their  beer, 
but  found  it  loathsome  stuff.  The  apple-toddy  was 
better.  He  knew  nothing  of  cards,  but  he  made  a 
pretense  of  playing,  for  there  was  forgetfulness  in 
this  wild  companionship.  Their  oaths,  once  so  shock- 
ing, were  as  meaningless  now  as  the  goo-goo  of 
prattling  babes.  They  did  not  even  know  they  were 
not  wicked.  This,  too,  was  a  part  of  the  farce. 

Perry's  position  often  seemed  like  a  god's.  There 
was  a  consciousness  of  being  above  everything,  out- 
side of  everything,  knowing  everything,  understand- 
ing everything;  and  to  this  superior  being  all  was  a 
farce.  The  zest  that  remained  in  life  was  to  prove 
this  conclusion  with  each  new  setting  which  a  kalei- 
doscopic existence  furnished  him. 

Again,  sometimes  he  seemed  to  be  playing  a  part 
with  the  other  actors,  when  he  would  accuse  himself 
of  not  doing  his  lines  well.  It  was  impossible  to  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing.  He  could  not  forget  him- 
self. He  was  never  playing  the  same  game  as  the 
others.  He  was  always  something  alone,  apart  from 
his  associates  and  their  surroundings.  The  game  was 


The  Wolverine  173 

the  thing  with  them;  but  with  him  there  was  always 
something  beyond,  something  to  come  after,  that 
was  never  attained,  but  made  him  go  weary  to  bed, 
gave  him  a  restless  night,  and  caused  him  to  rise  dis- 
pirited, often  with  an  aching  head,  in  the  morning. 

He  dropped  out  of  the  whirl  of  society,  took  to. 
reading  books  on  Sunday  morning,  and  only  occa- 
sionally went  to  services  in  the  church  at  night.  He 
explained  himself  to  no  one;  if  questioned  he  made 
replies  of  a  superficial  nature,  and  pleaded  fatigue 
from  overwork.  He  had  before  been  considered  one 
of  the  substantial  young  men  of  the  town;  now  he 
became  popular  with  the  wilder  sort  also,  from  whom 
he  no  longer  held  aloof,  while  still  not  becoming  quite 
one  of  them.  This  non-radical  position  gained  him 
friends  from  both  sides,  who  elevated  him  to  a  Cap- 
taincy in  the  Bradies  at  the  spring  election.  His 
investments  in  land  were  turning  out  profitable,  and 
altogether  he  seemed  on  the  high  road  to  success. 
But  the  thing  gave  him  small  pleasure.  He  received 
it  all  as  a  part  of  the  farce.  According  to  his  old 
belief  he  should  have  been  overtaken  with  misfor- 
tune, when,  on  the  contrary,  the  very  goddess  of  for- 
tune seemed  to  have  taken  up  her  abode  with  him. 

Wait!  the  end  was  not  yet — some  voice  within 
would  tell  him;  and  he  was  reminded  that  goddesses 
might  prove  as  false  as  their  flesh  and  blood  antitypes. 
Indeed,  a  certain  demoiselle  of  his  acquaintance  had 
once  possessed  a  throne  among  the  deities,  and  he  had 
learned  a  lesson  from  her.  He  had  heard  many 
strange  and  conflicting  stories  regarding  Marie.  He 
knew  she  had  had  a  long  and  serious  illness,  dating 


174  The  Wolverine 

from  a  time  soon  after  their  last  meeting.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  to  associate  the  two  together  with 
any  cause  and  effect  relation.  One  story,  indeed,  had 
given  the  cause  of  her  illness  as  the  recent  loss  of  a 
French  lover.  Perry's  mind,  lapsing  into  its  former 
mode  of  thought,  had  found  a  just  retribution  in  fier 
affliction,  till  he  remembered  that  justice  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  scheme  of  nature.  Then,  too,  the  very 
story  was  denied.  Marie  had  never  loved  this  French- 
man. Her  illness  was  the  result  of  a  cold  taken  in 
the  early  spring,  when  her  body  was  generally  run 
down,  as  every  one  knew;  and,  as  for  a  lover,  the 
public  had  already  arranged  a  match  between  her 
and  the  youthful  Governor,  that  was  entirely  satis- 
factory to  most  people. 

Altogether,  it  was  a  strange  life  that  Perry  led  for 
many  months.  A  night  of  high  thinking,  of  deep 
abstraction,  of  profound  research  into  the  mysteries 
of  the  Infinite,  would  be  followed  by  one  of  carousal 
among  the  wildest  elements  of  the  town.  He  did  not 
yield  completely  to  the  baser  order,  but  startling 
stories  came  to  his  pastor,  and  led  that  good  man  to 
pay  him  a  visit.  The  Reverend  Montieth  was  tre- 
mendously shocked  by  what  he  learned.  But  Mrs. 
Holland  gave  him  hope  with  a  key  to  the  situation 
when  she  said: — "The  lad  hae  ane  michty  ink  spot 
on  his  soul,  nae  doot.  But  dinna  think  to  wash  it  oot 
wi'  yer  cauld  water  releegious  arguments.  That  will 
but  set  the  color.  Ye  maun  leave  it  to  wear  oot  in 
the  love  which  the  young  man  bears  a'.  I  hae  gi'en 
him  the  warks  o'  the  gude  Doctor  Chalmers  to  read. 
In  my  opeenion  he  needs  naething  mair  but  time  an* 


The  Wolverine  175 

the  cruel  facts  of  life  to  turn  him  back  to  the  fold 
where  I  doot  not  his  heart  hae  been  a'  the  time,  on'y 
his  head,  bewitchet  by  the  warks  of  the  Evil  One, 
hae  gang  astray." 

Perry  was  too  young  to  despair,  and  contentment 
in  the  new  life  was  impossible.  He  read  continually 
in  the  hope  of  finding  some  firm  foundation  to  build 
upon  anew.  While  it  was  a  battle  he  must  fight  out 
alone,  he  could  go  to  Father  Richard  and  argue 
against  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and 
from  the  Priest's  sturdy  defense  gather  many  an 
invigorating  thought,  many  a  reconstructive  idea  for 
a  new  philosophy. 

When  the  little  candle  burned  out  in  the  Priest's 
study,  there  was  yet  light  from  the  glowing  hearth  to 
paint  red  two  faces  in  the  gloom — one,  young,  but 
touched  with  the  solemnity  of  life,  and  ready  to 
become  cynical  with  the  quick  change  of  moods;  the 
other,  aged  in  physical  lines,  but  young  in  the  spirit 
born  of  eternity,  that  imparted  a  soft  radiance  to  the 
countenance  through  which  it  looked. 

The  younger  man  was  listener  the  greater  part  of 
the  time,  receiving  unconsciously  the  bread  of  life 
anew  from  the  very  source  which  once  he  had 
despised.  The  Priest  may  have  thought  to  bring  his 
auditor  within  the  fold  of  the  Church,  but  if  so  never 
by  one  indiscreet  word  did  he  show  sign  of  an  ulterior 
purpose.  It  was  the  sweet  simplicity  of  his  life  that 
charmed  Perry  and  gave  something  like  rest  to  his 
troubled  mind.  The  sincerity  and  unselfishness  of 
the  man,  the  rock-like  convictions  which  shaped  his 
movements,  long  since  won  the  youth's  admiration 


176  The  Wolverine 

and  were  bound  to  kindle  in  him  sooner  or  later  a 
new  faith  adapted  to  his  own  peculiar  needs. 

They  always  parted  with  a  silent  clasp  of  the  hands, 
as  best  suited  the  glorified  heights  to  which  they  had 
climbed  after  setting  out  in  a  spirit  of  controversial 
dogmatism.  Father  Richard  had  had  the  last  word, 
and  was  content.  Perry,  with  bowed  head,  had  re- 
ceived an  impression  as  broad  as  the  universe,  sweep- 
ing away  time  and  all  that  was  finite,  and  causing  a 
momentary  conviction  that  he  was  a  part  of  something 
imperishable,  supremely  grand  in  conception,  planned 
from  all  eternity  to  eternity.  The  thing  was  simply 
necessary.  His  own  consciousness  was  proof  of  it. 
If  he  was,  this  was.  If  this  was  not,  he  was  not  that 
had  seen  it.  And  the  thing  he  had  seen  was  as  much 
beyond  what  is  commonly  called  Nature,  as  the 
material  world  is  beyond  nothing  at  all. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

WHILE  Perry  was  passing  through  this  great 
trial,  many  stirring  events  occurred  to  call 
forth  his  physical  activities.  A  note  from 
Governor  Cass, — who  had  returned  home  for  the 
summer, — directed  him  to  be  present  at  a  meeting  of 
the  trustees  of  the  Detroit  College.  This  institution 
was  destined  to  make  its  impress  on  the  great  North- 
west and  the  Nation  at  large,  as  it  in  time  grew  into 
the  University  of  Michigan.  Father  Richard  and  Rev- 
erend Montieth  were  among  the  trustees  present.  The 
meeting  was  called  to  act  on  an  offer  which  a  young 
man  brought  from  Ohio,  for  land  held  by  the  Col- 
lege on  the  Maumee  River. 

There  was  a  division  among  the  trustees  as  to  what 
was  best  to  do.  Some  maintained  that  the  property 
would  eventually  be  the  site  of  a  flourishing  city,  and 
its  value  immensely  increased.  But  those  favoring  an 
immediate  sale  were  in  a  majority  and  prevailed,  as 
had  been  foreseen;  and  Perry  was  given  instructions 
forthwith,  and  despatched  to  make  the  survey. 

Recent  rains  had  made  the  roads  very  heavy;  nev- 
ertheless, it  was  thought  best  to  go  by  stage,  as  to 


178          •    The  Wolverine 

wait  for  a  boat  that  would  put  in  at  Port  Lawrence 
would  cause  delay.  Mr.  Gettler,  the  young  lawyer 
who  had  negotiated  the  sale,  was  to  accompany  Perry. 
Gettler  was  a  spirited  fellow  with  pronounced  red 
hair,  penetrating  eyes,  and  a  wiry  form  dressed  in  the 
latest  New  York  fashion.  As  companions  on  their 
way,  the  young  men  had  a  fussy  old  woman  with 
innumerable  bundles,  possessed  of  a  nervous  certainty 
they  would  all  be  scalped  by  the  Indians;  and  Father 
Richard,  who  had  suddenly  been  called  to  Monroe  to 
perform  the  last  sacred  duties  to  a  dying  parishioner. 

"Won't  you  join  me  in  a  smoke  on  the  outside?" 
Gettler  asked  Perry,  the  first  time  they  stopped  on 
the  road.  He  had  taken  the  lead  in  conversation, 
turning  nearly  everything  into  a  joke,  and  a  poor 
one  at  that.  His  hair  was  repeatedly  the  subject  of 
light  remark,  and  always  coupled  with  Perry's,  which 
he  chose  to  think  of  the  same  color.  Perry,  who  was 
glad  to  forget  his  hair  when  he  could,  only  glared  at 
him. 

"I  never  smoke,"  said  he,  coldly  declining  the  cigar 
offered. 

"Never  smoke?  Well  now,  that's  odd!  I  couldn't 
live  without  it." 

"My  son,  I  think  you  could  live  better  without  it," 
said  the  Priest,  with  a  pleasant  smile,  after  he  had 
shaken  his  head,  for  Gettler  had  next  extended  the 
cigar  to  him. 

"Well  now,  if  this  don't  beat  ever'thing!  Two  men 
who  don't  smoke!  It  means  something!  I'm  bound 
to  believe  it  means  something.  The  lady  may  be 
right.  I  never  met  two  before  in  one  day  who  didn't 


The  Wolverine 


smoke.''  And  shaking  his  head  ominously,  he  joined 
Le  Borgne  on  the  box,  and  asked  him  for  a  light 
from  his  pipe. 

"Fm  glad  you  don't  use  tobacco,  my  son,"  said  the 
Priest,  turning  to  Perry.  "It  is  a  senseless  and  filthy 
habit.  Besides,  it  is  positively  injurious.  This  young 
man  who  has  just  left  us  is  made  nervous  by  its  use. 
Did  you  see  his  hand  tremble?  And  he  is  not  half 
my  age."  The  venerable  Father  held  out  his  own 
hand,  which  was  as  steady  as  time,  and  left  his  hearers 
to  draw  the  inference. 

"It's  all  'et  y'u  say,  Father,"  declared  the  old  woman 
in  a  peevish  voice.  "It's  another  of  them  things  'et 
we've  got  to  thank  the  horrid  Injuns  for.  An'  oh 
dear!  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  they  don't  scalp  me  before 
ever  I  get  to  my  daughter's  in  Chicago.  I  wrote 
Zulindy  in  my  last  letter  'et  she  needn't  never  to 
expect  to  see  me  alive  again.  An'  now  I  jest  know 
she  won't.  Ain't  this  the  place  where  Winchester's 
men  was  massycreed?  Laws-ah-me!  I  believe  it  is; 
an'  thet's  a  pesky  Injun  behind  yon  tree!" 

"Calm  yourself,  my  good  woman,"  commanded 
the  Priest.  "No  harm  will  come  -to  us.  There  isn't 
a  war-like  Indian  this  side  of  Black  Hawk's  band 
beyond  Lake  Michigan.  We  are  not  half  way  to  the 
scene  of  the  fight  you  speak  of.  Moreover,  it  is  trans- 
formed now  into  cultivated  fields,  and  scarcely  a  ves- 
tige of  that  horrible  event  remains.  Ah,  I  believe 
we  shall  have  more  rain."  He  would  draw  the  ner- 
vous woman's  mind  to  something  else. 

Perry  had  often  heard  Father  Richard  preach 
against  the  use  of  tobacco,  and  always  there  was 


180  The  Wolverine 

recalled  the  night  when  Marie  and  he  first  called  on 
Mere  Gobielle.  Marie  had  tricked  him  then  into 
believing  she  was  about  to  join  their  hostess  in  a 
friendly  smoke.  Because  of  what  rankled  in  his  breast, 
Perry  must  needs  rally  the  holy  father  now  on  the 
ineffectualness  of  his  efforts. 

"It's  bad  enough  for  a  man  to  smoke,"  he  began. 
"But  for  a  woman!" — Perry  shook  his  head,  unable 
to  find  words  to  express  his  repugnance.  "Yet  I  was 
at  one  of  your  parishioner's  not  long  since — Mere 
Gobielle's — Grand'mere;  and  another  member  of  your 
flock — a  young  lady — was  supplying  her  with  the 
hateful  weed!" 

"Yes;  there  are  those  who  use  the  hateful  weed,  as 
you  aptly  call  it;  otherwise  there  would  be  no  need 
for  me  to  preach  against  it,"  answered  the  Priest,  not 
at  all  put  out.  "And  one  of  these  is  Mere  Gobielle, 
or  Grand'mere,  as  you  say.  Grand'mere — and 
yet  she  hasn't  a  living  descendant  that  is 
known,  and  once  she  had  a  large  family.  Two 
of  her  sons  were  killed  below  here."  Without  men- 
tioning the  name,  his  glance  suggested  to  Perry  the 
Raisin  Massacre.  "And  two  were  killed  at  the  Battle 
of  the  Thames.  They  fought  on  opposite  sides,  as 
they  lived  on  opposite  banks  of  the  river  at  Detroit. 
Ah!  quite  a  remarkable  woman — full  of  legends  and 
stories  and  matter  of  real  historical  value.  She  was 
personally  acquainted  with  Pontiac.  So  you  have 
visited  her?" 

The  mention  of  Pontiac  led  their  talk  to  the  early 
history  of  the  region,  but  the  Priest  discouraged  the 
subject,  as  it  harassed  their  timid  companion.  Perry 


The  Wolverine  181 

told  how  surprised  he  had  been  to  find  Father  Richard 
an  ardent  supporter  of  education,  when  he  had  be- 
lieved the  Church  of  Rome  favored  keeping  the 
masses  in  ignorance.  And  from  this  they  drifted  into 
theological  discussion,  as  was  their  wont. 

The  re-entrance  of  Gettler  to  the  coach  put  a  stop 
to  their  argument.  It  was  beginning  to  rain  again. 
The  road,  bad  in  all  places,  seemed  steadily  getting 
worse.  The  coach  pitched  and  tumbled  its  occupants 
about.  Gettler  swore  and  begged  the  pardon  of  Priest 
and  the  timid  old  woman  alike.  Then,  with  a  jolt 
that  threw  all  in  a  heap,  the  vehicle  came  to  a  stand- 
still. 

"At  last!  at  last!"  cried  the  woman  in  terror.  "Oh, 
I  hear  the  war-whoop!  and  the  guns!  My  scalp  will 
betaken!" 

"Never  fear,  madam!  Permit  me  to  return  it  to 
you!"  said  Gettler,  with  mock  gallantry;  and  he  lifted 
the  old  woman's  wig,  which,  in  the  mix-up,  had  fallen 
to  the  coach  floor,  and  placed  it  on  her  head  as  if  it 
were  a  queenly  crown. 

"Ah,  some  mover  is  fast  in  the  mud,"  said  Father 
Richard,  looking  from  the  coach  door,  and  trying 
to  ignore  the  poor  woman's  humiliation.  "These 
are  no  Indians,  my  good  woman,"  he  added,  when 
the  wig  was  once  more  in  place.  "Those  yells  were 
but  a  man's  cries  to  his  team,  and  the  guns  were  the 
snapping  of  his  long,  black  whip.  Sons,  we  must  get 
out  and  help  him."  He  sprang  from  the  coach,  spoke 
in  French  to  Le  Borgne,  who  at  once  removed  his 
horses  to  help  the  stranger,  fast  in  the  mud. 

With  levers  cut  from  the  forest,  the  men  pried  the 


1 82  The  Wolverine 

wheels  up  and  gave  the  horses  a  chance  to  pull  the 
heavy  load  of  household  goods  from  the  mire.  The 
mover's  wife  and  children — a  sorry  group  in  the  rain 
— stood  at  one  side  and  watched  with  deepest  inter- 
est. They  were  profuse  in  their  thanks  when  all  were 
free  to  go  on  once  more.  The  coach  passed,  and 
Perry  wondered  how  long  before  the  others  would 
find  themselves  in  the  same  plight  again,  and  who 
would  help  them  then. 

"What  can  the  man  expect?"  said  Gettler.  "This  is 
Michigan  from  one  end  to  the  other.  Has  he  never 
read?  He  should  go  down  into  Ohio.  I  could  tell 
him  of  some  fine  lands  there." 

"No,  this  is  not  all  Michigan,"  declared  Father 
Richard.  "You  have  been  reading  Morse's  Geog- 
raphy, or  some  early  Governmental  reports  that  libel 
our  Territory.  There  are  bad  places.  But  there  are 
also  as  fine  lands  to  be  had  as  any  in  the  world.  What 
has  been  printed  has  done  great  injustice  to  this 
region,  and  clever  people  are  now  waking  up  to  the 
fact.  False  reports  have  permitted  Indiana  and 
Illinois  to  get  the  start  of  Michigan,  but  sturdy  men 
are  coming  in  with  their  families,  and  we  shall  not 
long  be  kept  behind." 

The  conversation  drifted  into  politics,  and  night 
settled  down  upon  them.  The  timid  old  woman  was 
nearly  forgotten,  for  since  fate  had  divulged  her 
secret,  she  seemed  to  have  lost  all  fear  of  the  Indians. 
Her  last  words  had  been  to  Gettler — "Thet's  truly 
my  own,  sir!  I  saved  the  combings,  sir,  when  first 
I  was  like  to  loose  my  hair,  sir;  as  Zulindy  would  tell 
you,  sir,  were  she  here!" 


The  Wolverine  183 

On  the  Frenchtown  side  of  the  River  Raisin, 
Father  Richard  left  the  coach.  The  others  continued 
across  the  toll  bridge,  and  completed  their  journey 
without  mishap  the  next  forenoon. 

The  land  which  Perry  had  come  to  survey  lay 
between  the  two  languishing  settlements  on  the  lower 
Maumee.  Remembering  the  discussion  among  the 
trustees,  he  was  inclined  to  think  they  had  done  well 
to  accept  the  offer  of  the  Ohio  company,  as  a  more 
forbidding  spot  could  hardly  be  imagined.  It  was 
seemingly  the  last  place  in  the  world  to  become  the 
site  of  a  flourishing  city.  Yet  in  this  both  he  and  the 
trustees  were  mistaken. 

Scarcely  a  day  passed  without  some  mishap  or 
adventure  that  delayed  Perry's  work.  Once  it  was  an 
angry  altercation  with  a  half-breed,  who  accused  him 
of  molesting  his  traps.  In  revenge  for  these  fancied 
wrongs  he  mutilated  Perry's  blazings,  pulled  up  the 
stakes  he  had  driven,  and  otherwise  meddled  with 
the  lines  he  was  running.  It  became  necessary  to 
put  a  stop  to  such  interference,  and  to  do  this,  Perry 
was  obliged  to  run  down  his  half-breed  and  give  him 
a  plain  talk.  In  making  search  for  the  fellow,  he  was 
surprised  to  find  one,  Gaspard  Beaucceur,  brother 
to  Pierre  Beaucceur  of  Detroit.  Perry's  acquaintance 
with  the  Detroit  family  stood  him  in  good  stead,  for 
the  Maumee  branch  received  him  at  once  as  a  friend, 
and  helped  to  win  the  half-breed  to  respect  his  mark- 
ings. 

As  Perry's  work  lay  in  the  neighborhood,  he  stayed 
often  with  Gaspard  Beaucceur  and  his  numerous 
family.  There  was  a  daughter,  Annette,  who  reminded 


1 84  The  Wolverine 

him  of  Marie;  and  though  any  thought  of  the  Detroit 
demoiselle  was  accompanied  with  pain,  he  could  not 
forego  all  the  yearnings  of  his  sorely  smitten  heart. 
His  excuse  for  staying,  however,  was  Madame  Beau- 
cceur's  cooking. 

Sleeping  rooms  were  small  and  stuffy,  but  Perry 
would  have  air  in  his.  Pushing  his  bed  near  a  win- 
dow one  night,  he  uncovered  a  door  leading  to 
another  chamber.  The  door  itself  had  been  removed, 
but  the  opening  was  blocked  by  a  bed  in  the  second 
room,  similar  to  his  own.  He  could  not  tell  how  long 
he  had  slept  when  he  was  wakened  by  voices.  A 
faint  glow  from  a  lamp  revealed  the  blind  door,  and 
through  the  crevice  between  wall  and  headboard 
came  words  plainly  audible. 

"Now  look  at  this  map/'  said  the  speaker,  and 
Perry  recognized  the  voice  of  Mr.  Gettler.  He  had 
not  seen  his  companion  from  Detroit  for  nearly  two 
weeks,  as  Gettler  had  been  called  to  Cincinnati  soon 
after  their  arrival  at  Port  Lawrence. 

"If  this  is  the  boundary  line,"  Gettler  was  explain- 
ing, "then  our  canal  will  have  its  northern  terminus 
in  Michigan.  And  that  we  do  not  want.  If  we  get 
aid  from  Ohio,  the  canal  must  all  be  within  the  State." 

"That  certainly  is  the  boundary  line,"  said  the 
other  speaker,  "and  I  don't  see  how  we  are  going  to 
help  ourselves." 

"You're  too  easy,"  returned  Gettler.  "The  boundary 
can  be  fixed  as  we  want  it.  Michigan  is  only  a  Terri- 
tory. Ohio  can  claim  any  line  with  good  showing; 
then  add  to  that  our  influence  in  Congress,  and  the 
thing  is  done." 


The  Wolverine  185 

"Where's  your  good  showing?"  demanded  the  sec- 
ond speaker.  "The  terms  seem  plain  enough."  And 
apparently  he  read:  "A  line  drawn  east  from  the 
southerly  bend  or  extreme  of  Lake  Michigan  until  it 
intersects  Lake  Erie. — I  don't  see  how  we're  going 
to  get  around  that?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  answered  Gettler.  "It  was 
thought  by  those  who  worded  that  description  that 
the  southern  end  of  Lake  Michigan  was  farther  north 
than  it  really  is.  I  have  looked  up  the  records  in  the 
matter.  The  strict  letter  would  shut  us  out  of  Lake 
Erie.  And  it  was  meant  that  as  many  States  as  pos- 
sible should  have  lake  ports.  Just  glance  at  this  map. 
See  that  jog  up  there  to  give  Pennsylvania  a  port. 
See  how  Indiana  touches  here.  Look  at  Illinois, 
barely  more  than  a  point  on  the  Lake  here.  This  very 
contingency  was  provided  for  when  Ohio  formed 
her  constitution,  and  all  it  lacks  is  Congressional 
ratification." 

"Well,  the  sooner  this  matter  is  attended  to  the  bet- 
ter," said  Gettler's  companion.  "There'll  be  some 
kicking  from  the  Territory,  I  imagine." 

"Shucks,"  returned  Gettler.  "Only  a  lot  of  French- 
men up  there,  who  care  for  nothing  but  an  easy,  good 
time!" 

"It  will  look  to  them  like  a  clean  steal,"  persisted 
the  other.  "And  if  they  should  put  up  a  fight " 

"Fight!  There's  no  fight  in  them.  What  did  they 
do — have  you  never  heard  of  Hull's  surrender?" 

Perry  could  hardly  resist  a  low  whistle.  He  won- 
dered how  Governor  Cass  would  receive  the  story 
which  he  would  carry  back.  Cass  was  not  a  Hull. 


1 86  The  Wolverine 

With  a  thrill  the  listener  recalled  a  story  recently  told 
at  a  meeting1  of  the  Brady  Guards:  how  the  Governor 
had  broken  his  sword  rather  than  give  it  up  igno- 
miniously  to  the  British  at  the  time  of  that  disgrace- 
ful surrender. 

Presently  Gettler's  companion  bade  him  good  night 
and  left  the  house.  Perry  could  not  go  to  sleep  at 
once,  even  when  all  was  quiet.  He  understood  Get- 
tier's  urgency  in  the  matter  of  the  College  lands  now, 
and  why  the  bargain  had  been  practically  closed 
before  the  survey.  The  canal  which  was  to  be  dug 
from  the  Ohio  River  to  Lake  Erie  would  terminate 
in  this  region;  a  city  would  soon  be  plotted  on  the 
very  land  the  trustees  had  parted  with  for  a  song. 
Not  only  this — but  his  Territory  was  to  be  robbed  of 
a  strip  on  its  southern  boundary,  if  political  influence 
and  juggling  with  terms  could  bring  it  about! 


CHAPTER  XK. 

TWO  days  later,  Perry  sailed  from  Port  Law- 
rence on  the  "Elizabeth  Ward,"  a  newly  built 
sloop  of  sixty-five  tons.  A  long  tack  to  the 
east  carried  him  within  sight  of  Put-in-bay,  where 
was  buried  his  father,  with  other  brave  men  who 
fought  under  the  indomitable  Perry.  Another  long 
tack  to  the  northwest  brought  them  to  the  mouth 
of  the  river.  Thence  it  was  slow  beating  to  windward 
up  the  strong  current  by  the  long,  narrow  islands. 
Near  the  old  barracks  on  Grosse  Isle  a  band  of  Indi- 
ans were  encamped;  and  they  of  the  sloop  spoke  many 
of  them  in  their  canoes  fishing  off  the  shore.  Then 
came  Fighting  Island  of  Pontiac  fame.  The  French 
farmhouses,  whitewashed  and  glistening  in  the  sun; 
the  many  quaint  windmills  with  their  great  dragon- 
fly wings — all  nestling  against  the  dark-green, 
heavily-wooded  background,  formed  a  picture  full  of 
simple  pastoral  beauty,  pleasant  to  look  upon  as  they 
moved  slowly  up  the  river. 

Arrived  in  the  Territorial  Capital,  Perry  hastened 
to  report  to  the  Governor.  But  Cass  had  sailed  up 
the  Lakes  three  days  before,  with  his  friend  School- 


craft,  and  would  visit  Ste.  Marie's  and  Michilimacki- 
nac  before  returning.  Acting  _  Governor  Mason  was 
also  away;  gone  with  some  gay  young  companions 
for  a  week  on  the  shores  of  Lake  St.  Clair.  Even 
Lyon  had  returned  to  Washington,  and  there  seemed 
no  one  to  whom  Perry  cared  to  confide  the  plot  he 
had  overheard  on  the  Maumee. 

Meanwhile,  the  directors  of  a  newly-chartered  rail- 
road to  be  built  between  the  Capital  and  Pontiac, 
were  clamoring  to  have  him  make  their  survey,  so 
he  got  his  outfit  together  and  set  off  again  into  the 
wilderness. 

He  had  a  last  night  with  Father  Richard,  in  which 
they  reviewed  their  acquaintance,  talked  of  their  com- 
ing separation,  and  made  promises  of  what  they  should 
do  when  the  snows  of  winter  reunited  them.  The 
Priest  gave  his  young  friend  some  books  in  French  to 
take  away  into  the  wilds,  that  the  language  which 
was  becoming  quite  at  home  on  his  tongue,  should 
not  be  forgotten.  Then  Perry  bowed  his  head  and 
received  the  holy  father's  benediction,  and  came 
away. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  Perry  gave  a 
large  part  of  his  time  to  writing  a  letter  to  his  mother 
and  sister.  This  was  a  delicate  task,  for  he  was  deter- 
mined not  to  trouble  the  dear  ones  at  home  with  the 
details  of  his  trial.  A  letter,  long  as  he  would  make 
it,  was  too  short  to  explain  all.  And  so  only  the 
bright  things  of  his  life,  the  new  hopes  and  budding 
ambitions,  found  an  historian  in  his  pen.  At  one 
point,  when  he  stopped  to  sharpen  a  quill,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  his  readers  would  wonder  why,  of  late, 


The  Wolverine  189 

there  was  never  a  word  of  his  church;  and  so  he  laid 
the  letter  aside,  and  went  out  to  hear  the  evening 
sermon,  with  the  idea  of  transcribing  the  headings,  as 
once  had  been  his  custom. 

The  Reverend  John  Montieth  was  at  his  best  that 
night.  Long  after,  when  away  in  the  woody  soli- 
tudes, Perry  recalled  his  words.  The  text  was — 
"Not  of  the  letter,  but  of  the  spirit;  for  the  letter  kill- 
eth,  but  the  spirit  giveth  life."  Perry  felt  something 
analogous  to  death  in  his  present  state,  and  wondered 
if  there  really  was  a  spirit  that  could  give  new  life. 

As  he  was  coming  out  of  the  church,  his  eye  fell 
on  the  figure  of  a  woman  dressed  in  black  and  heavily 
veiled.  Irregular  as  his  attendance  had  been,  he 
remembered  once  before  to  have  seen  her  there.  Both 
times  she  had  arrived  late,  a  trifle  agitated,  and  had 
dropped  into  a  pew  near  the  side  entrance.  To-night, 
as  she  was  hurrying  away  after  the  sermon,  her 
handkerchief  slipped  to  the  floor.  Perry  experienced 
a  flash  of  recognition  in  the  grace  of  the  trim,  dark 
form,  as  she  bent  to  recover  the  delicate  piece  of  lace 
and  linen.  But  no — it  could  not  be!  he  thought, 
frightened  at  the  thrill  which  passed  through  him. 
Irresistibly  attracted,  he  followed  at  a  distance,  and 
on  the  threshold,  picked  up  the  handkerchief  which, 
in  confusion,  had  been  dropped  a  second  time.  The 
veiled  figure,  however,  had  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness outside. 

Perry  carried  the  bit  of  finery  to  his  rooms  and 
examined  it  carefully,  but  neither  name  nor  mark 
was  to  be  found  anywhere,  not  even  a  delicate  per- 
fume by  which  it  might  be  identified.  Thinking  that 


i9°  The  Wolverine 

he  would  hand  it  to  the  sexton  before  leaving  town, 
he  folded  the  handkerchief  and  placed  it  between  the 
covers  of  a  book,  while  he  finished  his  letter  to  his 
mother.  The  next  day,  when  he  would  return  the 
handkerchief  to  the  church,  it  was  nowhere  to  be 
found. 

His  goods  were  packed,  his  men  employed,  and  all 
was  ready  to  leave  for  the  wilderness,  when  the  gay 
young  fellows  with  whom  he  had  spent  so  many  even- 
ings of  late,  clamored  for  one  more  meeting.  Only 
on  condition  that  it  be  a  sober  one  did  Perry  accede 
to  their  wishes.  And  so  far  had  he  made  himself 
leader  among  them  that  he  succeeded  in  carrying  it 
through  with  only  a  minimum  amount  of  drinking. 

He  was  glad  when  once  away  in  the  woods;  glad  of 
the  chance  to  make  himself  weary  with  physical 
exercise;  glad  when  night  came  with  its  rest  and  a 
quiet  moment  to  think  out  his  thoughts  alone, 
wrapped  in  his  Mackinaw  blanket.  One  evening 
when  his  camp  was  located  on  the  shores  of  a  pretty 
lake,  he  took  out  the  books  Father  Richard  had  given 
him,  for  he  felt  a  hungering  after  the  old  French 
sounds.  With  his  athletic  form  stretched  before  the 
blazing  fire,  he  opened  the  pages,  when  lo!  the  hand- 
kerchief which  had  so  mysteriously  disappeared,  fell 
upon  his  breast.  All  the  sensations  of  the  moment 
when  first  he  had  seen  it  dropped  were  recalled. 
Whether  it  was  Marie  then,  or  not,  it  was  Marie  whom 
he  saw  in  his  vision  now.  Why  was  his  heart  so 
moved,  after  all  her  treatment  of  him? 

Because  it  had  been  impossible  to  put  mademoiselle 
wholly  out  of  mind,  Perry  had  entered  into  a  weak 


The  Wolverine  I91 

compromise  with  himself,  out  of  which  two  Maries 
had  been  evolved.  One  was  the  Marie  of  his  dreams: 
lovely  of  mind  and  form,  a  perfect  paragon  among 
women,  a  vision  of  whom  he  treated  himself  to  at 
times  as  one  would  humor  a  sick  child.  The  other, 
he  taught  himself,  was  the  real  Marie;  and  the  vision 
was  dark — one  best  not  looked  upon,  and  even  he 
shunned  it. 

But  the  Marie  of  his  dreams  made  him  give  the 
living  Marie  many  a  new  hearing.  Some  advocate 
declared  he  had  been  too  hasty  in  judging  her  inten- 
tions on  that  fatal  night.  Was  there  not  a  chance 
that  he  had  deceived  himself?  And  if  it  was  Marie 
who  had  dropped  the  handkerchief  in  the  Presby- 
terian Church,  what  was  she  doing  there?  Would  it 
not  be  just  like  Marie  to  veil  herself  as  was  that 
woman,  and  go  to  this  Protestant  church,  if  her 
heart  was  opening  to  what  he  had  once  hoped  to 
waken  within? 

This  sort  of  thing  made  the  bit  of  lace  and  linen 
very  precious  to  the  isolated  young  man.  But  grant' 
ing  the  questions  an  affirmative  answer,  then  had  he 
sinned  past  all  forgiveness!  Because  such  thoughts 
were  torture,  he  would  revert  to  his  original  opinion 
and  declare  he  was  the  victim  of  self-delusion,  and 
the  whole  affair  would  be  crowded  out  of  mind  by 
sheer  force  of  his  master  will. 


CHAPTER   XXL 

THE  cross  on  the  tallest  spire  of  Ste.  Anne's  was 
the  first  object  to  catch  beams  of  light,  when, 
on  a  summer's  morning,  the  sun  rose  over 
the  Canadian  shore,  beyond  the  wooded  isle  at  the 
entrance  of  the  river.  Thence,  slowly  down  the  four 
minarets  at  the  corners,  the  zone  of  yellow  made  its 
way,  gilded  the  dome  in  the  centre  of  the  roof,  touched 
each  separate  piece  of  architecture  with  its  Midas- 
like  finger,  and  finally,  creeping  under  the  eaves, 
peered  with  golden  gleam  in  at  the  windows.  The 
sun  of  earth  might  be  ever  so  early,  the  faithful 
votaries  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  would  be  found 
to  have  preceded  it.  The  golden  gleam  of  light  dis- 
covered Father  Richard  already  entered  into  the  little, 
cell-like  confessional,  and  a  trembling  figure  in  black 
kneeling  penitently  before  him. 

The  Confiteor  had  been  repeated  and  questions 
asked  and  answered  in  regard  to  the  time  of  the 
penitent's  last  confession.  There  was  tender  assurance 
in  the  low,  modulated  French  which  the  Priest  used, 
and  the  throbbing  heart  of  this  daughter  of  the 
Church  was  already  experiencing  the  blessed  relief 


The  Wolverine  193 

of  the  sacrament.  Still  her  words  when  they  came 
were  only  whispers,  and  these  broken  from  time  to 
time  by  a  sob. 

Outside,  matins  were  over  for  the  dwellers  of  the 
air,  and  for  them  the  labors  of  the  day  had  fairly 
begun.  The  doves  had  left  the  belfry-tower,  and 
gone  to  the  market-square  for  their  breakfast.  The 
robins,  which  were  building  a  nest  just  under  the 
portico,  had  had  several  worms  apiece,  but  had  left 
off  feasting  on  discovering  a  particularly  fine  piece 
of  wool,  exactly  suited  to  complete  the  interior  of 
their  home.  Mrs.  Robin  was  deftly  putting  this  in 
place,  while  Mr.  Robin,  from  the  gable  of  Ste.  Anne's, 
carolled  her  praises  in  a  way  to  make  envious  all  the 
other  robins.  Bees  were  busy  in  the  morning-glories 
that  grew  at  the  corner  of  the  sanctuary;  save  one 
stupid  fellow,  who  persisted  in  mistaking  the  colored 
glass  in  the  windows  for  neglected  honey-bearing 
flowers,  and  battered  his  head  in  ineffectual  attempts 
to  get  at  the  sweets  within. 

"The  particular  sin,  my  daughter,  of  which  thou 
wouldest  unburden  thy  soul,"  prompted  the  Priest, 
with  his  low,  comforting  voice. 

"Ah,  Father,  I  know  not  if  there  be  a  particular 
one.  There  are  so  many.  I  know  not  which  is 
greatest.  But  some  I  would  hide  even  from  thee — 
and  that  is  a  sin,  also,  is  it  not?" 

"It  is  a  feeling  that  thou  shouldst  overcome,  my 
daughter.  There  is  nothing  to  fear,  save  the  anger  of 
God.  Have  I  not  taught  thee  from  thy  very  infancy 
that  thou  shouldst  not  fear  me,  nor  feel  shame  in  any- 
thing pertaining  to  this  sacred  rite?  The  peace  of 


194  The  Wolverine 

God  will  come  to  thee  in  the  performance  of  the 
penance  I  shall  impose." 

"I  have  been  to  the  Protestant  Church,  Father/' 
confessed  the  trembling  penitent.  "I  have  been  very, 
very  wicked.  I  have  sometimes  doubted  the  true 
Church.  I  have  wished  sometimes  that  I  had  been 
born  a  Protestant.  They  trust  their  religion,  and  are 
as  happy  as  we  of  the  true  Church." 

"Ah,  my  child,  this  is  indeed  a  sin.  They  may  be 
happy  now.  But  they  deceive  themselves.  Each 
one  is  his  own  judge  among  them.  And  in  the  end 
they  will  have  no  religion  at  all.  I  know  one  such. 
And  he  has  come  to  me  for  guidance,  as  they  must 
all  come  to  the  Church  of  Rome  at  last.  Do  not  go 
there  again,  my  daughter.  I  will  give  thee  a  penance 
for  this — two  Paternosters  and  five  Ave  Marias  at 
matins  and  vespers  till  St.  Bartholomew's  Day.  I 
fear  thou  hast  been  reading  some  books  of  heretical 
doctrine." 

"No,  Father,  it  is  not  that  that  has  led  me  thither. 
Thou  dost  call  me  a  child  as  always.  Sometimes  I 
think  thou  dost  not  realize  that  I  have  become  a 
woman.  Etienne  Baddeau  had  asked  me  three  times 
to  be  his  wife.  I  have  a  woman's  heart  now,  Father. 
I  should  have  accepted  his  love  had  he  lived." 

"Ah,  I  had  wondered  if  it  were  not  so,"  returned 
the  Priest,  with  sympathetic  brow,  while  his  eyes 
rested  absently  on  the  spot  in  his  stole  which  a  coal 
of  fire  from  the  censer  had  burned  on  Easter  morning 
last.  "I  think  Etienne  understood  thee  better  than 
thou  didst  thyself.  He  was  not  discouraged  by  thy 
frequent  refusals.  I  can  tell  this  to  thee  now,  if  it 


The  Wolverine  195 

will  be  any  comfort  to  know.  He  and  I  had  many 
long  talks  of  the  matter.  But  it  has  pleased  the  good 
God  to  take  him  before  he  became  thy  husband. 
Such  things  grieve  the  heart,  my  daughter,  but  they 
are  meant  for  our  blessing,  and  with  prayer  we  may 
see  it  in  time.  God  will  turn  thy  love  for  Etienne  to 
His  own  use." 

"But,  Father,  I  never  loved  Etienne.  I  should 
have  married  him  without  that.  I  hoped  that  love 
for  him  would  come  to  me  after  I  was  his  wife.  This 
is  another  sin,"  she  confessed,  with  a  sob;  "for  I  meant 
to  deceive  him.  And  I  have  deceived  others.  I  have 
let  them  think  that  I  loved  Etienne.  But,  Father,  it 
is  not  all  sin — oh!  is  it?  If  the  world  chooses  to  think 
this  way,  I  do  not  have  to  show  it  all  my  heart — tell 
me,  Father,  it  is  not  necessary!" 

"No,  my  child;  the  heart  may  have  its  secrets.  But 
I  do  not  understand.  Thou  wouldst  have  married 
Etienne — and  thou  didst  not  love  him?  Was  it  to 
make  him  happy?  I  do  not  understand " 

"I  did  not  love  Etienne,  Father.  But  he  is  not 
the  only  man."  Her  voice  was  scarcely  audible.  "I 
did  not  mean  to  do  a  wrong.  I  thought  it  would 
make  him  happy.  And  the  heart — a  woman's  heart — 
is  very  weak.  I  have  been  afraid  for  myself.  It  was 
to  save  myself  from  something — I  know  not  what! 
And  he  would  have  me  a  Protestant — and  I  have 
wished  I  were — and  it  was  to  save  me  from  that — 
from  him And  now  Etienne  is  dead!" 

Great  sobs  shook  the  kneeling  girl. 

"Do  I  understand  thee,  my  daughter?     There  is 


The  Wolverine 


another  man  whom  thou  dost  love;  and  he  would 
have  thee  be  a  Protestant?" 

"Yes,  Father!" 

"And  has  he  asked  thee  to  be  his  wife?" 

"No,  Father.  He  has  not  asked  me  to  —  that.  But 
he  has  shown  me  his  love.  He  has  told  me  of  it.  I 
have  been  very,  very  wicked.  I  have  tempted  him 
when  I  did  think  I  should  marry  Etienne.  But  he  is 
a  very  honorable  gentleman.  He  has  shown  me  things 
in  which  I  have  been  wrong.  And  he  has  wanted  me 
to  do  right.  He  always  does  right  himself  —  that  is, 
right  according  to  the  Protestant  right  He  is  very 
good,  Father." 

"But  if  he  has  not  asked  thee  to  be  his  wife  -  " 
began  the  Priest,  thoughtfully.  "I  think  thou  wouldst 
do  well  to  put  this  love  out  of  thy  heart,"  he  con- 
cluded. 

"Ah,  that  I  have  tried  to  do,  Father.  And  it  is 
there  I  think  I  have  most  grievously  sinned.  I  did 
think  if  he  were  not  so  good  I  should  not  love  him. 
I  was  happy  before  he  came;  but  now  whether  he  goes 
or  comes,  I  cannot  be  happy.  But  once  I  thought 
that  if  I  did  not  love  him  I  should  be  happy  again. 
I  tried  to  make  him  dishonorable  that  I  might  hate 
him.  I  tried  to  make  him  drunk,  when  he  is  a  tem- 
perate man.  They  say  I  was  mad  with  grief  then 
for  the  death  of  Etienne.  I  do  think  I  was  mad  with 
something  —  mad  to  save  myself  from  him  —  mad  for 
I  know  not  what!  Only  I  know  now  it  was  very,  very 
wicked.  It  was  in  my  heart  —  the  good  and  the  bad, 
mixed  there.  I  could  not  tell  —  I  could  not  help  it.  I 
felt  I  must.  I  thought  it  would  kill  me.  And  now  — 


The  Wolverine  197 

The  heart  thinks  such  strange  things !  It  prompts  me 
to  do  strange  things.  Oh!  I  do  fear  for  myself  even 
now!" 

"It  grieves  me  sorely,  my  daughter,  to  hear  these 
words,"  returned  the  Priest,  with  a  deep  breath.  "I 
had  hoped  to  see  thee  a  happy  wife  and  mother. 
Thou  hast  indeed  sinned  grievously  in  thy  method 
of  fighting  this  strange  love  that  has  come  to  thee.  I 
think  it  is  well  that  thou  hast  told  me  of  the  matter 
thus  early,  for  thou  shouldst  have  guidance  in  thy 
way.  I  think  thy  good  mother  could  help  thee " 

"Ah,  Father,  it  has  been  so  hard  to  tell  it  even  once! 
It  surely  is  not  necessary  to  confess  it  further.  With 
thy  prayers  and  my  own,  I  shall  be  safe.  He  is  very 
angry  with  me  now,  and  hates  me!  He  knows  how 
very,  very  wicked  I  am.  He  will  never,  never  come 
to  me  again.  He  has  gone  far,  far  away!" 

Her  sobbing  was  death  agony  to  the  kind-hearted 
Priest. 

"There,  my  child!  Thou  shalt  have  my  prayers; 
many  of  them.  It  is  the  good  God's  way;  and  if  He 
has  removed  this  strange  love  from  thy  path,  we 
should  be  thankful  for  His  care  and  watchfulness. 
Thou  wilt  thank  Him  with  thy  prayers  for  His  care 
and  watchfulness; — remember,  my  child,  for  His  care 
and  watchfulness.  I  will  show  thee  a  prayer  with  it 
so  worded.  Thou  hast  been  saying  a  prayer  for  this 
man?" 

"Yes,  Father." 

"Do  not  continue,  my  child.  It  is  not  well  for  thee 
to  do  it.  I  will  pray  for  him  all  that  is  necessary. 
Perchance  he  will  be  led  of  the  spirit  into  the  Holy 


198  The  Wolverine 

Church.  But  it  is  better  for  thee  to  forget  his  name, 
and  that  thou  hast  ever  known  him.  Thou  hast  been 
sorely  tempted,  and  hast  done  much  wrong.  But 
with  constant  prayer  thy  sins  will  be  forgiven,  and 
thou  mayst  yet  be  led  into  paths  of  peace." 

"Peace — that  is  what  I  would  have,  Father.  I  was 
given  at  my  birth  such  a  heart!  It  loves  to  play  dif- 
ferent before  people  from  what  I  truly  am.  I  do  not 
mean  to  lie.  I  do  not  mean  to  deceive  my  friends. 
Sometimes  I  do  not  know  what  I  am  myself,  till  the 
acting  has  gone  so  far — it  is  too  late  then.  But  I  do 
know  that  I  do  not  wish  to  be  wicked — that  I  wish 
every  one  happy.  And  I  wish  it  more  and  more  that 
I  am  so  unhappy  myself.  The  good  God  sees  every- 
thing, Father.  He  must  see  and  know  there  is  some 
good  in  my  heart." 

"Ah,  my  child,  He  does." 

"And  there  is  but  one  God?  The  Protestant  God, 
and  the  Catholic  God — it  is  but  one,  Father?" 

"True,  my  daughter.  But  the  true  Church  has  the 
right  way  of  worshipping  Him.  The  other  is  full  of 
error,  and  must  often  be  very  displeasing  to  His  holy 
eyes " 

"And  yet,  Father,  the  words  which  I  did  hear  there, 
were  very  like  the  words  thou  hast  often  spoken  thy- 
self. With  the  veil  drawn  thickly  over  my  face,  it 
did  seem  as  if  I  were  listening  to  some  new  Father, 
and  not  to  a  Protestant  minister.  And  if  the  dispo- 
sition of  the  heart  is  the  thing  of  true  importance,  as 
thou  hast  said  many  times;  and  if  their  God  and  our 
God  be  but  one — I  do  not  see  why  the  little  difference 
should  be  counted  so  great  a  sin." 


The  Wolverine  199 

"Ah,  child,  that  is  where  thou  art  beginning  to  set 
up  thy  private  judgment.  It  is  the  Devil's  entering 
wedge!  If  thou  givest  it  an  opportunity  it  will  divide 
thy  heart.  It  will  rob  thee  of  thy  peace  of  mind  far 
more  than  thou  hast  yet  experienced.  Shun  it,  my 
daughter,  as  thou  wouldst  the  pit  itself.  All  the  fumes 
of  Purgatory  will  scarcely  purge  a  soul  overtaken  by 
death  in  the  way  that  most  surely  leads  one!  I  will 
assign  thee  Scripture  to  read,  and  other  prayers  for 
penance  and  instruction.  Thy  heart  must  be  purged 
of  this  matter." 

The  bee,  blundering  at  the  window,  had  somewhere 
found  a  crevice  and  crawled  within  the  sanctuary. 
After  a  few  moments'  buzzing  about  he  discovered 
that  the  sombre,  vacant  apartment  with  the  strange 
odor  of  incense,  contained  nothing  for  him ;  but  when 
he  would  withdraw,  the  way  had  passed  beyond  his 
recollection.  And  now  he  was  battering  his  stupid 
head  at  the  inside  harder  than  he  had  done  without. 
Father  Richard  called  her  attention  to  the  insect,  and 
drew  a  lesson  from  its  plight  that  was  wonderfully 
edifying.  Then  he  went  to  the  window,  and,  opening 
it,  gave  the  bee  its  liberty. 

Some  of  the  doves  had  returned  from  the  market 
square,  and  were  cooing  loudly  about  the  belfry- 
tower.  The  wonderful  carolling  of  the  robin  at  the 
gable  peak  had  attracted  a  quarrelsome  fellow,  and 
an  angry  disputation  was  going  on  between  the  two, 
with  mad  flights  through  the  neighboring  air.  A  low 
hum  came  up  from  the  town,  as  it  slowly  awakened  to 
another  day's  work. 

Marie,  with  pale  face  hidden  behind  her  veil,  sat  in 


200  The  Wolverine 

chastened  mien,  in  one  of  the  pews,  while  Father 
Richard  chose  the  passages  which  she  was  to  read  for 
instruction  and  penance  on  the  days  to  come.  She 
was  feeling  the  blessed  relief  of  a  great  load  lifted 
from  her  heart.  Not  all  was  clear  yet.  But  there  was 
assurance  that  the  sins  committed  would  be  forgiven; 
besides,  some  doctrines  which  her  own  heart  approved 
but  which  had  still  seemed  heretical  according  to 
earlier  impressions,  had  been  sanctioned  by  the  Priest. 
Altogether,  Marie's  experience  had  not  been  such 
as  to  deter  her  from  further  independent  thought, 
though  for  the  present  her  spirit  seemed  eminently  sat- 
isfied. Her  greatest  grief  was  not  because  she  had 
transgressed  some  canon  of  the  Church;  somehow, 
loyalty  to  her  Church  had  seemingly  led  her  into  com- 
mitting a  greater  sin  against  the  man  she  loved.  Her 
eyes  had  not  been  opened  to  this  till  the  wrong  was 
done.  And  then,  because  zeal  for  her  Church  had  led 
her  into  this  error, — mistaken  though  that  zeal  was, — 
the  Church,  and  not  her  fallible  heart,  was  receiving 
the  blame.  The  thing  which  was  sin  at  first  was 
becoming  less  and  less  so;  while  the  wrong  she  had 
done  her  womanhood  in  the  method  chosen  to  stamp 
out  love,  was  becoming  more  and  more  hideous  with 
each  recalling  of  that  fateful  evening. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THERE  was  promise  now  of  stirring  times  in 
the  Territory.  General  Cass  had  returned  to 
Washington,  leaving  fiery  young  Mason  to  act 
as  Governor.  The  plot  which  Perry  had  discov- 
ered to  rob  Michigan  of  a  strip  of  land  on  her 
southern  boundary  had  aroused  the  people  to  a  fight- 
ing pitch.  Ohio  was  determined  to  run  the  line  mark- 
ing her  boundary  where  she  wished  it,  even  if  her  sur- 
veyors had  to  be  protected  by  the  entire  military 
force  of  the  State.  Upon  the  receipt  of  this  piece  of 
news,  Perry  was  summoned  to  the  Capitol. 

"How  many  men  can  you  muster  in  your  company 
at  a  moment's  notice?"  asked  Mason,  when  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  Bradies  presented  himself. 
"Sixty,  at  least,"  replied  Perry. 
"And  the  other  company?" 
"An  equal  number,  I  have  no  doubt/' 
"Who  is  your  lieutenant?     Would  you  trust  him 
to  lead  your  company,  if  you  were  called  to  a  higher 
position?" 
"Yes,  Governor,"  replied  Perry,  wondering  what 


202  The  Wolverine 

was  in  store  for  him.  "You  know  something  of  An- 
toine  Beaucceur.  He  is  my  lieutenant." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  the  Governor.  "These  Bradies 

— they  can  be  relied  upon — you  are  positive " 

Mason  was  feeling  his  way. 

"They  will  obey  your  orders,  Governor,  and  fight 
to  the  bitter  end,  if  that  is  what  you  wish  to  know — 
and  fate  has  no  better  end  in  store  for  us,"  replied 
North,  warmly. 

"Ah,  the  men  of  Michigan  are  made  of  royal  stuff!" 
exclaimed  young  Mason.  "Captain,  I  am  going  to 
ask  you  to  give  up  your  command  to  serve  on  my 
staff.  I  want  you  there — the  Territory  needs  you 
there.  You  accept? — then  hereafter  it  will  be  Major 
North." 

"Thank  you,  Governor,"  said  Perry.  He  won- 
dered why  his  immediate  thought  was  of  Marie.  Long 
since  he  had  given  her  up,  except  as  now  and  then 
he  weakly  dreamed  of  what  might  have  been.  Did 
the  Governor's  presence  suggest  mademoiselle?  It 
was  a  common  thing  to  connect  their  names;  and 
there  was  never  an  interview  with  Mason  but  the 
girl  came  to  Perry's  mind,  and  often  with  a  jealousy 
he  could  not  understand. 

Four  days  later  the  Bradies  were  encamped  on  the 
banks  of  the  Maumee  in  company  with  several  hun- 
dred troops.  Their  position  commanded  Toledo — the 
towns  of  Vistula  and  Port  Lawrence  having  recently 
been  united  under  this  name.  A  gallant  sight  was 
presented  when  their  dashing  young  Governor,  sur- 
rounded by  his  staff  dressed  in  buckskin  and  splen- 
didly mounted,  reviewed  the  troops  which  he  had 


The  Wolverine  203 

assembled  to  guard  the  interests  of  his  Territory.  Up 
the  river  a  few  miles  was  Governor  Lucas,  backed  by 
the  Ohio  militia  to  the  number  of  several  hundred, 
which  rumor  increased  to  ten  thousand,  and  the  Gov- 
ernor's own  proclamation  made  "a  million  of  free 
men!" 

In  a  council  which  the  Wolverines  held  soon  after 
their  arrival  it  was  decided  that  definite  knowledge  of 
the  enemy's  plans  must  be  obtained.  Information 
was  required  which  could  be  gained  only  by  sending 
someone  into  the  enemy's  lines. 

"By  gad,  I'll  go  myself!"  exclaimed  impulsive 
young  Mason,  starting  to  his  feet.  Kings  had  played 
the  part  of  spy  before  now — why  not  a  governor? 
This  readiness  to  face  any  danger  was  fast  making 
the  young  man  the  idol  of  his  people. 

"No,  no,"  said  experienced  General  Brown.  "You 
are  too  well  known.  There  are  a  score  of  men  with 
Lucas  and  his  followers,  who  have  met  you  in 
Detroit.  You  would  be  recognized  and  made  pris- 
oner, and  it  would  play  the  devil  with  our  plans — if 
it  did  not  prove  serious  to  your  person.  Surely 
another  can  be  found  who  will  volunteer  to  under- 
take this  mission." 

Mason's  face  darkened  with  disappointment,  for 
the  dangers  of  such  an  errand  fired  his  very  soul,  and 
he  found  it  hard  to  forego  the  excitement  held  in 
promise  by  the  work.  One  of  his  best  traits,  however, 
was  a  readiness  to  be  advised  by  older  heads;  and 
now,  as  he  so  often  did,  he  yielded  to  his  counselors. 
In  the  silence  which  followed  the  officer's  last  words, 
the  Governor's  eyes  passed  from  face  to  face  around 


204  The  Wolverine 

the  council  board,  till  they  met  the  return  gaze  of 
his  junior  staff-officer.  There  was  a  quick  exchange 
of  intelligence  between  the  two,  and  then  Perry 
stepped  forward. 

"I  will  undertake  the  mission/'  said  he,  quietly,  "if 
you  wish  me  to  do  so." 

"Major  North — I  know  of  none  better  qualified, 
General,"  said  the  Governor.  And  so  it  was  decided. 

Perry  held  a  last  consultation  with  his  Chief  and 
the  General  out  under  the  stars.  Then,  with  an  escort 
of  half  a  dozen  men,  he  was  ferried  to  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river.  Mounting  horses  there,  they  took 
the  road  leading  to  the  southeast,  and  galloped  away 
for  several  miles.  When  they  halted  it  was  before  a 
farm-house,  the  owner  of  which  was  known  to  favor 
the  Michigan  cause.  The  startled  inmates  were 
aroused  from  their  slumbers,  and  a  horse  and  light 
wagon  pressed  into  service,  together  with  a  load  of 
vegetables  and  some  poultry.  A  little  farther  on 
Perry  dismissed  his  escort,  and  mounting  the  light 
wagon,  continued  his  way  alone  toward  the  enemy's 
camp,  disguised  as  an  enterprising  truck-farmer. 

He  had  made  a  long  detour  to  gain  their  flank, 
and  just  as  the  sun  was  rising,  drove  into  the  Ohio 
camp  with  his  produce.  He  had  no  trouble  in  gain- 
ing admission  within  the  lines;  for  the  last  few  miles 
farmers  had  joined  him  from  time  to  time,  bent  on 
an  errand  which  seemed  the  same  as  his.  A  long  line 
thus  formed  was  allowed  to  proceed  at  once  into  camp, 
where  each  wagon  was  quickly  surrounded  by  militia- 
men eager  to  make  as  appetizing  a  breakfast  as  pos- 
sible. The  same  tactics  were  played  on  all  the  help- 


The  Wolverine  205 

less  farmers.  .While  a  single  private  engaged  the  own- 
er's attention  in  driving  a  sharp  bargain,  a  dozen 
others  helped  themselves  to  his  goods  and  disap- 
peared. 

It  served  Perry's  purpose  to  enter  a  resolute  pro- 
test against  such  treatment,  and  he  carried  the  mat- 
ter boldly  to  headquarters,  where  he  became  the 
spokesman  for  a  large  group  of  indignant  farmers. 
"Identify  your  goods,  and  they  shall  be  restored  to 
you,"  was  the  answer  which  they  received.  Unfor- 
tunately for  those  who  really  cared,  one  dressed  fowl 
very  much  resembles  another,  and  potatoes  have  not 
such  marked  personalities  that  they  may  be  distin- 
guished with  certainty ;  less  than  this  the  officer 
would  not  act  upon.  Besides,  he  showed  a  decided 
preference  in  taking  testimony — a  militiaman's  uni- 
form was  a  badge  of  truth  and  veracity,  while  the  garb 
of  a  rustic  marked  a  liar  every  time. 

However,  Perry  gained  an  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  force  marshalled  against  the  Wolverine  troops, 
and  decided  that  with  his  comrades  lay  the  advantage 
only  in  that  they  would  have  the  choice  of  position. 

A  council  would  be  held  in  the  evening,  when  action 
was  to  be  taken  regarding  future  movements,  and 
Perry  determined  to  have  an  ear  there  if  possible. 
Country  people  had  accepted  the  war-like  demonstra- 
tion as  an  event  demanding  a  holiday,  and  were  out 
in  numbers  exceeding  the  military.  Very  little  disci- 
pline had  been  maintained  during  the  day,  but  at 
night  pickets  were  posted,  and  all  civilians  excluded 
from  the  lines.  Before  the  change,  Perry  had  hid- 
den himself  in  a  clump  of  bushes,  where  he  could  hear 


206  The  Wolverine 

every  word.  A  man  in  uniform  sat  near,  and  through 
an  open  window  discharged  tremendous  volleys  of 
tobacco  juice  into  the  very  bushes  that  concealed  him. 
In  infinite  danger  of  being  hit  by  the  enemy's  fire, 
Perry  bravely  held  his  position  till  the  council  ad- 
journed. 

During  the  proceedings  he  repeatedly  heard  the 
voice  which  had  plotted  with  Gettler  in  Gaspard 
Beaucceur's  home  that  night  many  months  before. 
They  called  the  voice  "Major;"  and  the  officer  was 
convinced  that  the  Michigan  troops  would  not  fight, 
but  we're  merely  putting  up  a  bluff; — all  of  which 
recalled  that  other  conversation.  Everyone  wished 
to  avoid  bloodshed  if  possible;  and  after  a  free  dis- 
cussion, it  was  decided  to  make  a  flank  movement  to 
the  left  of  the  Wolverine  lines,  send  out  another 
detachment  by  boat  from  Cleveland  to  threaten  com- 
munications with  Detroit,  and  so  compel  the  stripling 
Governor  to  retreat  with  his  forces  from  the  position 
he  had  taken. 

Perry  was  now  ready  to  return  to  his  Chief,  having 
gained  the  information  he  had  come  for.  But  his  first 
movement  drew  the  attentions  of  a  dog,  which  set  up 
a  furious  barking. 

"What-ch-got,  Hick?  what-ch-got?"  cried  a  sol- 
dier's voice,  almost  at  Perry's  elbow. 

"Nothin'  but  a  rabbit,  I'll  swear,"  said  a  second 
soldier.  "Wish  'twas  a  coon,  now!  Here,  you,  Old 
Hickory !"  continued  the  second  voice,  seizing  the  dog 
by  the  muzzle  and  spinning  him  about.  "Let  up  on 
that  'ere  music!" 

Then  the  officer  at  the  window  thrust  his  head  out, 


The  Wolverine  207 

not  two  feet  from  Perry's,  and  called  gruffly — 
"What's  all  this  noise  about?" 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence. 

"Nothin'  but  a  fool  dog  an'  a  jack-rabbit,  Colonel," 
replied  one  of  the  soldiers,  who  fancied  he  understood 
the  situation. 

"Sure  "tain't  a  Wolverine?"  questioned  the  Colonel, 
with  a  bit  of  humor  in  his  tones. 

"Put-cher-dog  in  the  guard-house — he's  disturbin' 
meetn',"  said  another  voice  in  the  dark. 

A  laugh  greeted  these  sallies,  after  which  quiet  was 
restored.  With  Perry's  second  attempt  he  cleared 
the  bushes,  but  before  he  had  gone  a  dozen  feet  he 
was  roughly  seized  by  a  soldier.  Curbing  his  inclina- 
tion to  knock  the  fellow  down,  the  captive  made 
some  surly  reply  to  the  question  that  was  put  to  him. 

"I've  run  y'u  out  o'  camp  twice  to-night,"  said  his 
captor,  with  an  oath.  "I've  a  good  mind  t'  run  y'u 
through  now  with  this  bayonet!" 

"Now  y'u  won't  do  that,  Mr.  Soldier,"  whined 
Perry,  cringing  from  the  other,  adopting  the  tactics 
which  promised  best  to  serve  his  needs.  "Y'u  kin  put 
me  out  ag'in,  an'  I'll  come  back  ag'in,  too,  s'long's 
y'u  keep  my  hoss  an'  waggin.  Y'u're  a  lot  o'  thieves! 
That's  what  y'u  are.  An'  I'll  say  it  if  I  die  fur  it. 
Y'u  begun  this  mornin'  by  stealin'  my  turnips  and 
chickens,  and  now  y'u  want  'o  keep  my  hoss  an' 
waggin!" 

His  captor  drew  him  toward  a  comrade  who  held  a 
lantern.  Others  gathered  about. 

"He's  the  feller  what  carried  complaint  to  the 
Gov'nor  this  mornin',"  said  one. 


208  The  Wolverine 

"Ride  'im  out  o'  camp,  boys,"  cried  another,  at 
the  same  time  thrusting  a  long-barreled  rifle  between 
Perry's  legs.  In  a  moment  the  prisoner  was  in  the 
air — the  next  instant  the  man  who  had  seized  the 
muzzle  of  the  rifle  was  sprawling  on  the  ground.  Ap- 
parently the  fellow  at  the  rear  had  lifted  his  end  too 
high,  for  Perry  had  fallen  forward,  dealing  the  man 
before  him  such  a  blow  that  he  would  be  slow  to  play 
a  joke  again. 

"Now  stop  y'ur  foolin',  boys,"  whined  their  victim. 
"If  y'u'll  give  me  my  hoss  an'  waggin  I'll  go  'way  an' 
won't  bother  y'u  no  more." 

"Give  'im  his  hoss  an'  waggin,  Dick,"  cried  a  soldier, 
facetiously,  at  the  same  time  dealing  the  countryman 
a  thrust  that  sent  him  staggering  against  the  man 
addressed. 

There  was  a  general  guffaw. 

"I  hain't  got  his  hoss  an'  waggin,"  returned  Dick, 
and  he  sent  the  countryman  back,  apparently  with 
usury,  for  the  fellow  who  received  him  tumbled  to 
the  earth  as  if  struck  by  a  cannon-ball. 

They  were  having  a  lot  of  fun,  but  two  of  their  num- 
ber had  retired  from  the  game. 

"What's  all  this  disturbance?"  demanded  an  officer, 
stepping  into  the  group. 

"I  want  my  hoss  an'  waggin,"  repeated  Perry. 
"Y'u're  a  lot  o'  highwaymen — that's  what  y'u  are " 

"Is  your  horse  a  sorrel,  with  a  white  face  and  one 
white  foot?"  asked  the  officer,  with  an  encouraging 
air. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Perry,  for  any  horse  would 
answer  his  purpose — and  he  was  willing  to  forget 


The  Wolverine  209 

about  the  wagon,  if  it  would  hasten  his  departure  any. 

"Come  with  me,"  commanded  the  friendly  officer, 
and  the  countryman  obeyed.  "Is  this  your  horse  and 
wagon?"  the  officer  demanded,  after  he  had  conducted 
Perry  half  through  the  camp  to  a  stable  by  the  road- 
side. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Perry,  and  indeed  it  was  the 
very  turnout  that  had  brought  him  there  in  the  early 
morning. 

"Here,  Corporal,"  called  the  officer,  "conduct  this 
fellow  beyond  our  pickets." 

Five  minutes  later  Perry  was  jogging  along  the 
road  northward,  fairly  started  on  his  return.  He  left 
the  horse  to  choose  his  own  way  and  gait,  confident 
the  beast  would  carry  him  directly  to  his  stable.  Perry 
had  had  no  sleep  for  thirty-six  hours,  and  sorely  felt 
the  need  of  rest;  stretching  himself  in  the  bottom  of 
the  wagon,  he  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

As  long  as  the  jolting  continued  he  slept  soundly, 
but  the  moment  that  ceased  he  awoke  to  find  the  sor- 
rel had  done  his  part  well.  Exchanging  now  for  his 
own  fresh  horse, — one  of  the  thoroughbreds  which 
the  late  Governor  Porter  had  brought  into  the  Ter- 
ritory from  Pennsylvania, — Perry  was  not  long  in 
completing  the  remaining  distance,  and  day  broke  as 
he  was  being  ferried  across  the  Maumee.  Camp  was 
soon  astir,  and  when  admitted  to  Governor  Mason  and 
General  Brown,  a  dozen  men  awaited  him,  military 
and  civil  officers  of  the  Territory,  besides  politicians 
— an  eager  audience  that  hung  upon  his  words. 

"We  must  organize  a  naval  force  to  meet  this  expe- 
dition from  Cleveland,"  declared  Mason,  when  Perry 


210  The  Wolverine 

was  done  speaking.  "Thank  Heaven,  Michigan  has 
loyal  lake  captains  who  will  be  equal  to  this  emer- 
gency! I  reckon  I'd  better  prepare  the  despatches 
at  once.  General,  how  will  you  meet  the  movement 
on  our  right?" 

"I  think  these  Buckeyes  will  discover  our  right 
reaches  farther  than  they  have  any  idea,"  declared 
the  General.  "Wherever  they  cross  the  line,  I  promise 
you,  they'll  find  our  troops  there  facing  them." 

And  he  was  as  good  as  his  word. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  tramp  of  armed  forces  was  no  new  sound 
to  the  region  about.  Along  this  route  Tonty 
and  La  Salle  had  marched  their  iron-coated 
men-at-arms,  a  century  and  a  half  before.  A  hundred 
years  later,  the  British  General  Hamilton  led  his 
troops  over  this  ground  against  Vincennes; — under 
him  served  the  grandsires  of  many  who  now  marched 
with  Mason.  Again,  a  few  years,  and  St.  Clair  and  his 
ill-starred  army  were  cut  to  pieces  here.  Hard  on  the 
heels  of  this  event  followed  Mad  Anthony  with  his 
avenging  forces.  Then  came  the  brave  Kentuckians 
under  Winchester,  blindly  to  their  death.  After  them 
the  victorious  Harrison  chased  the  invader  from  the 
soil.  Now  a  new  generation  had  gathered  on  the 
spot,  with  impulses  that  burned  to  emulate  the  brave 
deeds  of  this  historic  region. 

Governor  Lucas  having  undertaken  the  perform- 
ance of  a  definite  action,  the  onus  of  initiating  war 
devolved  on  him.  On  a  night  in  the  following  week 
the  Wolverine  camp  was  thrown  into  fever  heat  by 
news  which  reached  them  from  Phillip's  Corners, 


212  The  Wolverine 

twenty-five  miles  to  their  right.  Perry,  returning  from 
a  late,  moonlight  row  on  the  river,  met  the  startling 
intelligence  at  the  dock,  where  a  score  of  men  in 
little  knots  quivered  with  excitement.  By  a  strange 
induction  his  own  nerves  began  vibrating  before  he 
reached  the  landing,  and  he  ceased  paddling  to  catch 
the  words  which  floated  over  the  water.  In  French 
and  English  came  expressions — ''fired  first  shot" — 
— "grand  combat" — "fight" — "prisoners" — "guerre  a 
mort" — "General  Brown" — "Buckeyes" — "surveyors" 
— "massacre  de  sang" — "killed  and  wounded" — "car- 
ried off  their  dead" — all  repeated  an  endless  number 
of  times. 

As  Perry  mounted  the  wharf  at  one  end,  horsemen 
came  dashing  out  of  the  gray  night  and  drew  rein  at 
the  other.  They  were  Governor  Mason  and  Major 
Hadley,  and  Perry  hastened  to  the  group  which 
formed  about  them.  There  was  no  need  to  ask  ques- 
tions, for  a  woodsman  just  brought  in  by  scouts,  began 
pouring  into  the  Governor's  ears  an  exciting  tale. 

"How  do  you  know  this?"  Mason  demanded  im- 
petuously of  the  fellow. 

"I  was  one  of  the  Ohio  party,  sir,"  replied  the 
woodsman  respectfully.  "Only  I  had  been  out  hunt- 
ing, and  so  was  not  with  the  main  body.  I  tell  you, 
sir,  just  as  I  saw  it.  I  was  about  to  join  the  Ohio 
men  when  I  heard  firing.  My  friends  had  taken 
refuge  in  a  log  house  which  your  troops  quickly  sur- 
rounded. They  were  selling  their  lives  dearly,  sir. 
But  it  was  no  use,  for  there  was  only  a  handful  of 
our  party,  while  your  men  were  sixty  or  a  hundred. 


The  Wolverine  213 

A  few  made  their  escape,  but  most  of  them  were  killed 
or  made  prisoners  by  General  Brown.  That  was 
yesterday  afternoon — that  is  Sunday,  day  before  yes- 
terday,— this  being  Tuesday  morning," — glancing  at 
the  full  moon,  which  had  now  climbed  past  the 
meridian. 

The  Governor  put  a  few  questions  with  the  dex- 
terity of  a  lawyer,  and  was  about  to  ride  away  when 
he  caught  sight  of  Perry's  face  in  the  mellow  light. 

"Hello,  North!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  do  you 
think  of  this  story?" 

"By  gad!  it's  my  'pinion  that  General  Brown's 
acted  hastily/'  interpolated  Hadley,  before  Perry  had 
decided  what  reply  to  make.  "Has't  ever  occurred 
to  you,  gentlemen,  that  Brown  would  like  to  bring  on 
a  fight  for  the  fame  he  might  make  out  of  it?"  he 
asked,  with  a  strongly  toddy-tainted  breath. 

"No,  no,"  returned  the  Governor.  "I  cannot  think 
that.  I  have  had  many  conferences  with  him,  and  I 
am  sure  Michigan  interests  are  quite  safe  in  his  hands. 
When  we  learn  all,  we  shall  find  he  has  but  done  his 
duty.  I  had  hoped  a  conflict  might  be  avoided.  But 
if  Governor  Lucas  has  come  into  our  Territory  with 
an  armed  force,  we  could  do  no  less  than  has  been 
done." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Governor,"  said  Perry,  with 
simple  force. 

"Well,"  commented  Hadley,  sententiously,  "we 
shall  see  what  we  shall  see."  He  was  only  a  drawing- 
room  soldier,  and  had  little  relish  for  real  campaign- 
ing. While  Mason  and  Perry  were  discussing  the 
news  further,  he  swung  out  his  arms,  and  in  a  thick, 


214  The  Wolverine 

stagey  voice  mouthed  some  words  of  Shakespeare's, 
taking  his  usual  liberties  with  the  text: — 

"Curse  it!  to  speak,  and  with  no  addition, 

We  fight  to  hold  a  little  patch  of  ground 

That  hath  in't  no  profit  but  the  name; 

To  pay  five  ducats — fugh!  I  would  not  farm  it — " 

Some  laughed  at  his  manner,  but  Mason  did  not 
heed  him. 

"Anyway,  I  reckon  it  won't  be  amiss  to  get  some 
sleep  before  to-morrow's  work,"  said  the  Governor, 
and  wheeling  about  he  galloped  off  toward  headquar- 
ters, followed  by  the  half-drunken  Major,  swaying 
ludicrously  in  his  saddle. 

Next  day  it  was  found  that  first  accounts  of  the 
engagement  had  been  wildly  exaggerated.  No  lives 
had  been  lost,  and  the  invaders  even  denied  that  they 
had  fired  a  shot,  while  General  Brown  declared  his 
men  had  discharged  their  guns  but  once,  and  then 
into  the  air.  Nevertheless,  Ohio  people  were  moved 
to  a  furore.  A  number  of  her  militia  officers  had  been 
captured  and  carried  away  to  a  Wolverine  jail,  and 
others  had  fled  for  their  lives.  It  was  enough  that 
the  proud  State  of  Ohio  had  been  put  to  defiance. 

The  two  armies  were  now  brought  face  to  face  in 
the  field.  The  countryside  was  in  the  wildest  excite- 
ment. But  one  word  was  lacking — the  command  to 
march  on  the  Wolverine  lines.  Mothers  and  wives 
hid  their  faces,  with  fingers  thrust  far  into  their  ears 
lest  they  hear  that  word  and  know  the  fearful  carnage 
had  begun. 

Hark!  Deep  into  those  finger-tips  there  penetrates 
the  noise  of  furious  riding.  Is  the  battle  on?  Hope 


The  Wolverine  215 

begs  for  one  last  chance.  Ears  that  were  meant  to 
be  deaf  are  tnrown  open  a  single  instant  to  catch 
the  faintest  murmur.  There  is  no  sound  of  guns! 
What  does  it  mean?  Eyes  that  a  moment  before 
would  shut  out  the  truth  are  now  strained  to  catch 
the  minutest  detail.  Two  foaming  steeds,  with  riders 
frantically  waving  handkerchiefs  in  lieu  of  white 
flags,  dash  between  the  opposing  forces.  A  short 
conference  follows,  in  which  leaders  from  both  sides 
ride  out  and  take  part  between  the  lines. 

Someone  remembering  the  anxious  watchers  in  a 
certain  house  on  the  hillside,  carries  the  news  to  them. 
President  Jackson  has  intervened,  and  there  is  to  be 
no  war!  Commissioners  have  arrived,  and  wish  to 
continue  negotiations  under  this  roof. 

Presently  the  rooms  are  filled  with  uniformed  men; 
men  in  buckskin,  and  men  in  the  garb  of  civil 
life.  Perry,  riding  by  the  side  of  his  Chief,  had  recog- 
nized the  place.  There  was  Gaspard  Beaucceur,  radi- 
ant, honored  by  his  distinguished  company,  making 
bows  to  the  right  and  left.  Perry  hastened  to  him, 
with  extended  hand. 

"I  hope  we  shall  not  long  inconvenience  you,"  he 
said,  looking  beyond  the  stately  old  man,  where  he 
caught  glimpses  of  his  anxious  spouse  and  Annette, 
the  dark-eyed  daughter,  who  reminded  him  of  Marie. 

"Ah,  eet  ees  no  ingcongvenience,"  returned  Beau- 
cceur, showing  his  perfect  teeth.  "Eet  ees  one 
pleasair — one  ver5  gre't  pleasair." 

Perry  pressed  on  for  a  word  with  the  ladies. 

"Ah,  monsieur!  Ze  war  ees  eet  ovair?"  inquired 
madame,  with  a  tremor  in  her  voice. 


2i 6  The  Wolverine 

"I  hope  so,"  replied  Perry,  fervently.  "But  no  harm 
can  come  to  you.  In  spite  of  the  stories  you  hear, 
we  are  not  making  war  on  women.  We  are  only 
defending  our  own." 

"Mon  Dieu!  eet  ees  not  meself.  Ah,  you  know 
not  ze  motter-heart.  Jacques,  mon  fils,  il  est  wit'  ze 
Lucas  Guards!" 

Perry's  chief  called  him  now  to  another  room, 
where  he  was  wanted  to  act  as  secretary.  There,  men 
were  seated  about  a  long  table,  with  one  vacant  chair, 
to  which  he  was  motioned.  Other  men  were  left 
standing  about  the  room,  and  with  every  movement 
there  was  the  clank  of  spurs  and  the  rattle  of  sheathed 
sabers. 

"You  understand  my  position,  gentlemen,"  said 
Governor  Lucas,  addressing  the  Commission:  "As 
an  executive  officer,  I  am  but  an  instrument  in  the 
hands  of  the  Legislature  of  this  State " 

"Of  your  State,"  corrected  Governor  Mason.  "I 
must  beg  to  remind  your  Excellency  that  you  are  now 
on  soil  belonging  to  Michigan  Territory " 

"Have  done  with  quibbling,  gentlemen,"  inter- 
jected the  Chief  Commissioner.  "Governor  Mason, 
allow  Governor  Lucas  to  state  his  position." 

"I  was  saying,  your  Honor,"  resumed  the  white- 
haired  Governor  of  Ohio,  "that  as  an  executive  offi- 
cer, I  am  bound  to  carry  out  the  laws  which  my 
legislature  has  enacted.  I  am  directed  by  that  honor- 
able body  to  extend  jurisdiction  over  this  territory.  I 
shall  do  this  by  force  if  necessary.  My  troops  are  pre- 
pared to  act " 


The  Wolverine  217 

President  Jackson.  And  he  forbids  you  to  use  force 
in  this  matter.  This  is  a  question  for  Congress  to 
decide/' 

"Congress  be  hanged!"  retorted  the  aged  Gover- 
nor, forgetting  himself  in  a  moment  of  irritation.  "We 
have  waited,  sir,  a  score  of  years  for  Congress  to 
decide  this  matter.  And  now  patience  has  ceased  to 
be  a  virtue.  Sir,  the  proud  State  of  Ohio  can  no 
longer  brook  the  insolence  of  this  stripling  and  his  for- 
tune-hunting followers.  They  have  appealed  to  arms, 
sir,  and  arms  must  decide  it!" 

"Your  words  recall  to  mind  a  bit  of  recent  hisv 
tory,"  commented  the  Chief  Commissioner,  with 
quiet  force,  "and  I  beg  to  suggest  to  your  Excellency 
that  discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valor.  In  a  cer- 
tain sister  State  there  arose,  not  long  since,  a  contro- 
versy between  its  citizens  and  the  General  Govern- 
ment. The  State  proposed  to  have  its  own  way,  or 
leave  the  Union.  President  Jackson  sent  its  leaders 
this  word: — 'By  the  Eternal!  an'  you  do,  I'll  hang 
every  mothers'  son  of  you  as  high  as  Haman !' '' 

Governor  Lucas,  though  a  brave  man,  paled  as  he 
felt  the  significance  of  this  speech,  and  realized  that 
the  hero  of  New  Orleans  could  call  his  acts  in  ques- 
tion. Those  words  to  the  nullifiers  in  South  Carolina 
were  extremely  disconcerting. 

A  buzz  of  comment  passed  around  the  room.  As 
Perry  glanced  from  his  work  he  met  the  look  of  one 
he  had  seen  before.  In  an  instant  he  recalled  the 
face  and  the  red  hair  above  it  as  Gettler's.  The  fellow 
wore  the  uniform  of  a  staff  officer  now,  and  was  deep 
in  conversation  with  General  Bell  of  the  Ohio  forces. 


2i 8  The  Wolverine 

Then,  at  Perry's  elbow,  came  tones  which  startled 
him,  for  they  were  the  very  ones  he  had  overheard  in 
that  house,  plotting  to  rob  Michigan  of  this  strip  of 
land;  and  again  a  few  nights  ago  he  had  heard  them 
in  the  enemy's  camp.  Somebody  called  the  man 
"Major  Gettler,"  and  Perry  at  once  saw  resemblances 
which  convinced  him  the  two  were  father  and  son. 

"These  are  the  propositions  which  we  would  sub- 
mit to  you,  Governor  Lucas,  and  to  you,  Governor 
Mason,  and  which  we  believe  both  parties  can  accept 
with  honor,"  said  the  Chief  Commissioner.  "First: 
The  boundary  line  shall  be  run  and  remarked  pur- 
suant to  the  act  of  the  Legislature  of  Ohio,  without 
interruption.  Second:  Civil  elections  having  taken 
place  throughout  the  disputed  territory,  the  people 
therein  shall  be  left  to  their  own  government,  without 
molestation  from  either  side,  until  the  close  of  the  next 
session  of  Congress." 

As  the  remarking  of  the  line  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  hostilities,  Governor  Lucas  looked  upon  an 
acceptance  of  these  terms  as  a  victory  for  his  State. 
He  had  no  idea  of  embroiling  himself  in  a  conflict 
with  the  General  Government.  After  a  short  consul- 
tation with  his  staff,  he  accepted  the  propositions  of 
the  Commission. 

"And  you,  Governor  Mason?"  questioned  the  Chief 
Commissioner.  "Will  you  accede  to  this  agreement?" 

"Never!"  returned  the  youthful  Governor.  "Michi- 
gan is  in  peaceful  possession  of  this  territory  now,  and 
I  will  never  agree  to  anything  that  will  compromise 
her  rights,  or  surrender  jurisdiction  here."  As  he 
spoke,  he  drew  his  sword  half  out  of  its  scabbard,  and 


The  Wolverine  219 

sent  it  home  with  a  great  clatter.  It  was  a  bit  of 
stage  play,  but  he  carried  it  off  so  admirably  as  to 
thrill  the  blood  of  his  followers. 

That  was  the  end  of  the  conference.  Governor 
Lucas  made  good  the  promise  to  disband  his  troops, 
and  with  the  disappearance  of  hostile  forces  in  front, 
Governor  Mason  withdrew  his  militia.  The  home- 
ward march  of  the  Wolverine  men  became  a  triumphal 
procession.  At  every  village  and  hamlet  they  were 
received  as  victors  returning  from  a  glorious  cam- 
paign. The  Ohio  forces  had  come  face  to  face  with 
the  gallant  men  of  Michigan;  had  beheld  their  bold 
line  of  battle;  then  retreated,  disbanded,  and  slunk  to 
their  homes  like  curs  lacking  courage.  So  the  story 
was  told  from  house  to  house,  while  the  men  feasted 
and  drank,  helping  themselves  to  what  was  not 
passed  out. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

WHEN  Governor  Mason  withdrew  his  troops, 
he  left  Perry  at  the  seat  of  trouble  to  report 
anything  which  it  would  be  well  for  the 
Detroit  Government  to  know.  In  spite  of  unsettled 
conditions  Toledo — as  it  is  now  called — was  growing 
rapidly,  and  was  scarcely  to  be  recognized  as  the 
tangled  region  through  which  the  surveyor  had  strug- 
gled a  year  before.  The  controversy  over  the  bound- 
ary remained  the  all-absorbing  topic,  and  daily  there 
were  disputes  that  not  infrequently  came  to  blows. 
Originally,  the  inhabitants  had  favored  the  Michigan 
cause,  but  of  late,  opinion  had  swerved  radically  in 
the  opposite  direction,  as  it  now  appeared  to  the  town's 
advantage  to  come  under  the  Ohio  government. 

Perry  found  his  position  anything  but  pleasant. 
The  Gazette,  the  local  newspaper,  denounced  him  in 
vigorous  and  picturesque  language,  and  applied  epi- 
thets to  Wolverines  in  general  that  made  the  sheet  an 
object  for  future  retribution  in  the  eyes  of  the  up- 
country  people.  It  was  not  pleasant,  when  walking 
abroad,  to  feel  that  at  any  moment  one's  person  might 
stop  the  flight  of  addled  eggs  or  rotted  vegetables; 


The  Wolverine  221 

but  such  were  the  conditions  under  which  Perry 
moved  for  days. 

At  the  hotel  which  was  Perry's  headquarters,  young 
Gettler  was  staying  also,  and  on  several  occasions  he 
tried  to  draw  Perry  into  a  dispute.  He  publicly  ap- 
plied the  name  of  spy  to  him;  but  as  the  Gettlers  had 
once  held  commissions  from  Michigan,  and  now 
served  the  Buckeye  Government,  Perry  could  use  the 
word  "traitor"  with  as  good  effect  on  him.  In  the 
main,  however,  he  was  content  to  bide  his  time, 
knowing  the  Monroe  Sheriff  had  a  warrant  for  the 
Major,  young  Gettler's  father,  and  only  waited  an 
opportunity  to  arrest  him.  Major  Gettler  was  away 
now  at  the  State  Capital,  but  no  sooner  did  he  return 
than  swift-footed  horses  bore  the  word  north,  while 
well-mounted  men,  making  up  the  Sheriff's  posse, 
acted  in  return. 

Perry  was  standing  in  a  doorway,  looking  into  the 
candle-lighted  public  room  of  the  hotel.  Back  of 
him  was  the  gray  night.  Before  him  a  dozen  men 
smoked,  spat  tobacco-juice  about  the  floor,  and 
talked  the  latest  gossip.  Young  Gettler  was  there. 
So,  too,  was  his  father,  the  latter  having  just  come 
into  the  room,  accompanied  by  a  short,  stout  gentle- 
man with  whom  he  had  had  an  appointment  above 
stairs.  The  stranger  was  an  officer  of  the  Canal  Com- 
pany, recently  arrived  from  Cincinnati.  The  two  had 
gone  at  once  to  the  bar  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and 
were  now  discussing  some  question  over  their  glasses. 

"Sh!  Don't  betray  me!  Ver5  soon  you  see  some 
fun,"  said  a  voice,  close  to  Perry's  ear,  that  surprised 
him,  coming  out  of  the  night  at  his  back.  He  recog- 


222  The  Wolverine 

nized  it  as  Antoine  Beaucoeur's,  and  after  the  first 
start,  which  no  one  noticed,  held  his  position  as  if 
nothing  had  occurred.  "We  have  the  house  sur- 
rounded. Ver5  soon  the  Sherff  will  enter  at  the  big 
door.  The  large  gentleman  drinking,  he  is  the  Major, 
is  it  not?" 

Perry  withdrew  his  head  into  the  shadow  and 
nodded  assent. 

"Ah,  there  is  mon  Cousin  Jacques!"  exclaimed  An- 
toine, beneath  his  breath,  catching  sight  of  a  face 
he  knew  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 

"Come  poys,"  the  short,  stout  gentleman  was  say- 
ing, "I  zets  um  oop  for  eferypody.  Eferypody  drinks 
now  at  my  exbense.  An'  eferypody  moos  drink  to 
de  teestruction  von  de  Meechigan  beebles.  Fill  um 
oop,  Mischter  Par-dender." 

In  the  movement  toward  the  bar  no  one  noticed 
the  door  open  and  two  officers  enter  the  room. 

"Major  Gettler,  I  have  a  writ  for  your  arrest,"  said 
the  Sheriff,  touching  that  gentleman  on  the  shoulder. 

A  dozen  arms  with  well-filled  bumpers  at  their 
ends,  were  poised  in  air  midway  to  open  mouths. 

"What's  that?"  cried  the  Major,  springing  back. 

The  Sheriff  believed  his  words  had  been  perfectly 
understood.  "The  house  is  surrounded,  gentlemen, 
and  I  would  advise  you  to  make  no  resistance,"  he 
added,  his  voice  quivering  a  little  with  excitement. 

"Dunder  'nd  blitzen!"  roared  the  surprised  canal 
officer.  "Vhat  ece  eet?  Dose  tamn  Meechigan 
beebles — haf  dey  gome?  Py  Cot!  ve  fight  tern!" 

"Not  another  step,  sir,  or  I'll  crush  you  to  the 
floor,"  thundered  the  Major,  facing  the  officer  of  the 


The  Wolverine  223 

law,  and  swinging  a  chair  over  his  head.  A  strapping 
fellow  next  him  drew  a  dirk.  The  Major's  son  started 
for  the  door  in  which  Perry  had  been  standing,  but  at 
that  moment  the  crowd  outside  surged  into  the  room, 
apparently  led  by  Perry  himself,  as  he  was  forced 
ahead. 

''This  is  your  work,"  cried  young  Gettler,  address- 
ing North,  with  an  oath.  Then  he  made  a  run  at 
Perry,  a  dirk  flashing  in  his  uplifted  hand.  The  two 
struggled.  "There,  damn  you;  you've  got  it  now," 
he  hissed,  letting  go  his  hold.  At  that  moment  the 
candles  were  extinguished,  and  the  utmost  confusion 
prevailed  in  the  darkened  room.  Above  the  noise  the 
sound  of  hoof  beats  could  be  heard  without,  as  horse- 
men galloped  up  and  down  the  street. 

The  Sheriff's  voice  pierced  the  din,  giving  com- 
mands to  his  followers. 

"Stand  back — someone  is  hurt  here!"  cried  another 
voice,  with  French  accent.  "Mon  Dieu,  don't  trample 
on  thees  fellow.  Bring  lights!  The  candles!  the 
candles !" 

"Here,  I  have  a  locofoco,"  called  a  bass  voice,  and 
there  followed  the  noisy  scratching  of  the  newly-in- 
vented match.  Such  force  was  required  to  ignite  it 
that  the  slender  stem  was  broken  as  the  brimstone 
finally  took  fire,  and  the  head  falling  upon  some  cot- 
ton cloths,  a  blaze  was  started  that  increased  the  com- 
motion. But  at  length  this  was  extinguished  and  the 
candles  relighted. 

"Voila,  who  is  hurt?  Bon  Dieu,  c'est  Monsieur 
North!"  exclaimed  Antoine  Beaucceur,  bending  above 
Perry's  unconscious  form.  "Ah,  that  snake-like,  red- 


224  The  Wolverine 

headed  devil  stabbed  him!  Major!  Major!  Speak — • 
is  it  not  so?  Dieu!  is  he  dead?  See — here,  in  the 
breast!  Ah,  the  blood!" 

"Ciel!  c'est  mon  Cousin  Antoine!"  gasped  the  one 
assisting  him.  "You  here,  Antoine  Beaucoeur!  Ah, 
you  come  wit'  ze  troops  from  oop  countree.  Dieu! 
an'  I  know  zis  fel-low!  C'est  monsieur  1'arpenteur — 
Monsieur  Nort'!"  And  the  Buckeye  Frenchman  for- 
got his  intense  partisan  feeling  in  administering  to  an 
old  friend. 

"Ah,  Cousin  Jacques,  it  is  so;  and  a  ver'  dear  friend 
of  mine  is  monsieur,"  declared  Antoine.  "What  shall 
we  do?  Le  diable  aux  cheveux  roux — did  they  let 
him  escape?  Voila!  what  is  this  new  commotion?" 

"Au  diable!  they  say  your  men  have  set  fire  to 
the  hotel,"  answered  Jacques  in  French.  "Come,  we 
cannot  stay  here.  I  will  help  you  carry  monsieur. 
We  will  take  him  to  our  house,  shall  we  not?  I  have 
my  cart  in  the  next  street,  and  there  is  plenty  of  straw 
in  the  box.  Come.  Perhaps  he  is  not  dead." 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

WHEN  consciousness  returned  to  Perry  he 
found  himself  lying  under  a  low,  white- 
washed ceiling,  bent  into  an  angle,  the 
inclined  portion  of  which  was  pierced  by  a  window 
that  looked  out  upon  a  moss-covered  roof.  Life  came 
to  him  like  waking  from  a  dream;  he  could  not  think 
clearly;  he  could  not  place  himself.  Had  he  been 
ill?  He  was  strangely  weak.  Where  was  he?  The 
pictures  on  the  walls  he  had  seen  somewhere — the 
crucifix  and  the  saints.  Without  moving,  he  could 
see  the  pattern  of  the  coverlet  that  stretched  over  his 
heavy  limbs,  and  recognized  it  as  of  French  design. 

Then  someone  came  softly  through  a  door,  and 
bent  above  him.  "Dieu  merci!  Eet  ees  good.  Mon- 
sieur ees  bettair,  n'est-ce  pas?"  And  Perry  found 
himself  looking  into  the  kind,  motherly  face  of 
Madame  Gaspard  Beaucoeur.  "Eet  ees  what  I  have 
fear  mooch — what  I  fear  for  mon  fils — for  Jacques. 
C'est  le  guerre!  But  monsieur  peetty  soon  he  will  be 
recover.  C'est  tres-bon."  And  she  glided  away 
before  Perry  could  ask  a  question. 

In  the  hall,  whither  she  disappeared,  he  heard  whis- 


226  The  Wolverine 

pers  and  the  rustle  of  skirts,  and  shadows  seemed  to 
flit  along  the  walls.  Madame  reappeared  soon  with  a 
bowl  of  something  hot  and  delicious,  and  with  every 
swallow  of  the  nourishing  concoction  he  seemed  to 
gain  strength.  He  wanted  to  ask  questions,  but  she 
gave  him  no  chance,  for  whenever  he  opened  his 
mouth  she  filled  it  with  her  spoon.  It  was  a  joy  to 
lie  there  and  feel  warmth  and  life  creeping  through 
his  veins.  Again  he  saw  the  shadows  on  the  wall  and 
wanted  to  ask  madame  about  them,  but  she  had  gone 
from  the  room  before  his  thick  tongue  had  formed 
a  word. 

The  whispers  were  louder  in  the  hall  this  time,  but 
not  so  that  Perry  made  them  out,  for  they  were 
French,  and  French  yet  required  his  closest  attention. 

"Ah,  he  ate  it  all!"  sibilated  madame  in  raptures. 
"Soon  he  will  be  out  of  danger,  and  then  I  shall  turn 
him  over  to  les  demoiselles.  I  know  you  are  just 
dying  for  a  chance  to  show  your  skill  as  nurses, 
mes  cheres.  But  I  shall  be  partial  to  none — not  even 
Annette  shall  care  for  him  more  than  her  cousins/* 

"I  thank  you,  ma  tante,  but  I  shall  give  my  chance 
to  Marie,"  declared  Mademoiselle  Navarre.  "Mon- 
sieur is  an  old  lover  of  hers.  Ah,  do  not  deny  it, 
Marie ;— les  cheveux  d'or " 

"Do  not  listen  to  her,  ma  tante!"  interrupted  Marie, 
blushing  painfully.  "I  should  be  inhuman  did  I  not 
feel  deepest  interest  in  monsieur " 

"Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  madame,  opening  wide 
her  little  black  eyes.  "I  did  not  know " 

"Oh,  ma  mere!  You  have  had  no  thought  for 
anything  outside  of  monsieur's  chamber,"  declared 


The  Wolverine  227 

Annette,  impatiently.  "Have  I  not  said  it  a  hundred 
times?  There!  we  have  made  so  much  noise  we 
have  disturbed  him.  Run  and  see,  ma  mere!  Ah,  the 
word  is  hardly  necessary;  she  will  care  for  him  as  if 
it  were  Jacques  himself!" 

When  madame  returned  she  had  a  pretty  tale  to 
tell.  "Ah,  he  recognized  your  voices,  mes  cheres!  He 
asked  questions,  and  I  had  to  tell  him.  And  now  I 
have  promised  him  that  after  he  sleeps  again,  Marie 
shall  bring  the  broth  and  feed  him.  And  at  once  he 
closed  his  eyes  like  the  great,  sweet  baby  that  he  is. 
Ah,  I  do  hope  he  will  recover  soon;  it  was  such  an 
ugly  cut,  and  monsieur  is  so  weak  from  the  loss  of 
blood!" 

"Oh,  ma  tante,  you  should  not  have  told  him  I 
was  here!"  cried  Marie,  in  confusion.  "He  will  not 
care  to  see  me.  It  will  be  better  for  Annette  or  Claire. 
Ah,  truly,  ma  tante;  once — once  I  did  offend  monsieur 
sorely,  and  I  think  he  has  never  forgiven  me!" 

"But  then  you  shall  atone  for  the  offense  now.  And 
he  will  forgive  you,  I  promise, — or  why  did  he  look  at 
me  with  his  great,  blue  eyes  in  that  way?  and  why 
did  he  close  them  with  not  one  word  of  protest?  Tell 
me  that,  ma  chere!" 

"Monsieur  is  weak.  It  is  the  loss  of  blood,"  re- 
turned Marie,  with  a  little  shudder.  But  hope  and 
her  heart  gathered  a  different  story  from  madame  her 
aunt's  words. 

When  Perry  awoke,  his  first  thought  was  that  he 
had  dreamed  Marie  was  in  the  house.  It  was  a  year 
since  he  had  seen  her  on  that  fateful  night  at  the  Jus- 
tice's. Since  that  time  he  had  done  everything  in  his 


228  The  Wolverine 

power  to  avoid  her.  When  strong  and  well,  he  had 
little  difficulty  in  putting  her  out  of  mind.  But  when 
tired,  or  out  of  sorts  and  longing  for  the  comforts 
which  only  a  woman  can  give,  his  thoughts  always 
returned  to  Marie.  Marie — but  not  the  one  who  had 
played  him  false;  an  ideal  Marie  whose  face  and  form, 
however,  were  the  same  as  had  early  been  impressed 
on  his  heart.  While  he  could  differentiate  between  the 
two  in  his  waking  moments,  he  did  not  expect  it  in  his 
dreams.  The  real  Marie,  he  reasoned,  would  not  come 
into  this  troubled  district  in  these  perilous  times.  It 
was  but  a  dream  he  had  had. 

Lying  on  his  back,  not  knowing  whether  he  was 
going  to  make  a  mend  of  it,  or  if  indeed  his  hour  had 
come,  he  could  not  escape  his  early  teaching  and  the 
thoughts  of  a  hereafter.  Never  had  his  doubts 
seemed  so  like  withered  husks.  Gladly  would  he  have 
willed  to  return  to  his  one-time  faith;  but  it  required 
more  than  willing,  it  required  conviction;  and  sadly 
he  realized  that  this  must  come  from  without  himself, 
and  perhaps  the  power  to  effect  it  existed  nowhere. 
In  his  utter  helplessness  it  was  whispered  that  he 
should  not  make  his  religion  a  thing  of  fallible  reason, 
but  have  faith  in  the  hope  and  longing  of  his  heart, 
and  pray — "O  Thou  infinite  Something,  I  believe, 
help  Thou  mine  unbelief!" 

The  prayer  had  scarcely  left  his  lips  when  Madame 
Beaucceur  entered  with  more  nourishment.  "One 
may  promise,  monsieur,"  she  said  with  disjointed  sen- 
tences; "and  I  did  my  best.  And  mademoiselle  says 
she  will  see  you  by  and  by.  Ah,  ze  nursing,"  she 
broke  into  English — "I  t'ink  ze  demoiselles  would 


The  Wolverine  229 

lofe  eet.  But  no,  no!  Zey — what  you  call  eet? — so 
awdd.  I  canno'  tell.  Monsieur  moos  keep  hees  old 
ugly  nurse — eet  ees  one  peety!" 

But  Perry  murmured  something  very  gallant,  and 
madame  showed  almost  girlish  pleasure  in  his  speech. 
Another  moment,  her  words  recurred  to  him,  and  he 
puzzled  over  them  till  he  grew  weary.  She  had  never 
spoken  of  Annette  that  way;  and  she  did  say  demoi- 
selles. It  had  not  been  a  dream;  his  mind  would  pic- 
ture Marie.  And  why  might  she  not  be  visiting  here? 
— Gaspard  was  her  father's  brother.  He  made  a  feeble 
protest  against  any  thought  of  her.  It  was  wrong  and 
foolish.  He  was  doing  many  things  that  were  wrong 
and  foolish — his  Puritan  conscience  told  him.  Sorely 
perplexed,  on  the  verge  of  tears  in  his  weakness,  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

When  madame  next  visited  him,  Perry  was  so  much 
stronger  that  she  signalled  for  those  in  the  hall,  and 
all  three  demoiselles  came  trooping  into  the  room. 
Marie  was  the  last,  back  of  Gaspard,  Jacques,  and 
Antoine,  pale  and  contrite.  With  his  first  strength 
the  wounded  man  was  called  upon  to  bear  more  than 
any  could  dream.  Marie's  eyes  met  his  only  once,  and 
their  glance  revealed  nothing  more  than  mutual  em- 
barrassment. Perry  made  a  feeble  joke,  and  all  were 
delighted  with  his  progress  toward  recovery.  When 
each  had  said  something,  madame  drove  them  from 
the  room  as  she  would  a  brood  of  chickens. 

After  that  first  visit,  Marie  no  longer  hesitated  to 
approach  Perry's  bedside  when  madame  sent  her  on 
an  errand.  Indeed,  she  put  herself  in  the  way  of  being 
sent  there — not  boldly,  but  simply,  modestly,  with  the 


23°  The  Wolverine 

grace  of  a  little  child  and  the  tact  of  a  woman  twice 
her  years.  She  had  forgotten  all  Father  Richard's 
warnings,  and  was  conscious  of  only  one  thing — a 
desire  to  win  back  this  man's  friendship  and  esteem, 
both  of  which  she  had  lost  by  practices  that  placed 
her  in  the  category  of  the  diabolical.  She  could  not 
confess  her  wrong  without  an  explanation  which  was 
impossible.  With  anything  short  of  this  Perry  would 
misunderstand — and  she  was  very  proud.  She  would 
not  have  him  think  she  was  asking  for  his  love — no, 
not  for  a  thousand  worlds.  If  he  were  ever  to  ask  her 
in  marriage  she  would  refuse  him.  But  his  friendship 
— he  would  not  deny  her  that.  In  many  little  acts  of 
kindness  she  would  plead  to  be  forgiven,  and,  great 
as  was  her  sin,  he  was  too  good  a  man  to  withhold 
what  she  asked. 

Accordingly,  the  next  day,  Marie  demurely  volun- 
teered to  read  something  to  monsieur  if  he  wished 
it.  They  had  fetched  Perry's  belongings  from  the 
hotel,  which,  contrary  to  Jacque's  fears,  had  not 
burned  on  the  night  of  the  raid ;  and  among  his  effects 
was  a  copy  of  Irving's  Sketch  Book.  From  this  Marie 
read  aloud,  sitting  under  the  little  hood  that  roofed 
the  dormer-window,  and  the  light  falling  athwart  her 
features  formed  as  sweet  a  picture  as  mortal  man  ever 
looked  upon. 

Perry's  experience  had  made  him  wary,  however. 
He  had  suffered  terribly  because  of  his  previous  folly, 
and  was  resolved  to  take  no  chances  now.  He  might 
cherish  the  ideal  Marie  all  he  would,  it  should  not  lead 
him  into  words  or  acts  of  weakness  toward  the  living 
Marie,  who  could  play  a  part  with  consummate  skill, 


The  Wolverine  231 

as  he  had  learned  to  his  bitter  cost.  What  new  role 
she  was  enacting  he  did  not  try  to  guess.  He  quickly 
decided  to  accept  her  attentions  as  he  would  Annette's 
and  Claire's,  and  he  was  glad  that  he  was  seldom  left 
alone  with  her. 

Generally,  all  the  demoiselles  were  in  his  room  at 
once — Annette  to  carry  away  his  breakfast  dishes; 
Claire  to  renew  the  flowers  which  she  gathered  daily 
from  the  neighboring  forest  for  the  little  stand;  and 
Marie,  come  with  the  book  closed  upon  a  finger  that 
marked  the  place  where  she  had  left  off  reading. 
There  was  sprightly  conversation  for  a  few  moments, 
after  which  Claire  sat  with  some  needle-work  while 
her  cousin  read  aloud,  with  frequent  interruptions  as 
they  discussed  the  sketch  under  consideration,  touched 
by  poor  Rip  Van  Winkle's  plight,  or  moved  to  laugh- 
ter by  the  luckless  Ichabod  Crane. 

Because  Perry  did  not  recover  as  fast  as  some 
thought  he  should,  they  sent  to  Detroit  for  Doctor 
Houghton,  and  he  was  in  the  house  several  days. 
The  wound  had  been  an  ugly  one,  four  inches  long, 
in  the  left  side,  penetrating  dangerously  near  the 
heart.  However,  good  nursing  was  all  he  needed  now, 
the  Doctor  said;  and,  with  a  gallant  bow  to  the  ladies: 
"A  man's  a  fool  if  he  dies  in  such  hands — and  foolish 
if  he  gets  well  speedily."  All  of  which  proved  Perry 
both  wise  and  clever. 

Letters  came  from  Governor  Mason,  Congressman 
Lyon,  and  other  friends,  to  cheer  and  break  the 
monotony.  Jacques  and  Antoine  brought  reports  of 
local  happenings,  and  the  times  were  most  stirring. 
Very  humorously  did  Antoine  tell  of  the  arrest  of 


232  The  Wolverine 

Major  Gettler,  a  day  or  two  following  the  first  attempt, 
when  the  Monroe  officers  had  been  balked,  and  Perry 
had  received  his  wound.  The  Major,  fairly  caught, 
had  been  forced  astride  a  horse,  and  his  feet  bound 
under  the  animal;  thus  humiliated,  they  led  him  north 
to  the  county  jail.  Young  Gettler,  after  his  dastardly 
attack  upon  Perry,  had  fled  south,  placing  himself 
under  the  protection  of  Governor  Lucas,  who  refused 
to  honor  requisition  papers  served  upon  him  through 
Mason. 

Daily,  Perry  heard  Antoine  and  Jacques  review  the 
controversy  below  stairs,  at  times  waxing  exceedingly 
warm  in  their  discussion.  Then  old  Gaspard,  with 
stately  mien,  would  interfere,  and  the  subject  would 
be  banished  for  a  time.  Gaspard  was  content  with 
the  older  regime,  but  his  son — a  member  of  the  Lucas 
Guards — was  a  zealous  advocate  of  Ohio's  cause. 
When,  a  few  days  later,  a  lawless  band  of  Wolverines 
swooped  down  upon  the  town,  and  without  warning, 
demolished  the  Gazette  office,  thinking  to  retaliate  for 
the  blood  Gettler  had  so  foully  spilled,  the  father  could 
hardly  keep  his  impulsive,  hot-tempered  son  in 
bounds.  It  required  all  his  tact,  with  frequent  remind- 
ers of  what  French  courtesy  meant,  to  prevent  the  lad 
from  committing  an  out  and  out  breach  of  hospitality. 

Such  scenes  made  Perry  long  to  get  back  to  Detroit, 
and  so  free  his  kind  host  and  hostess  of  the  dissension 
in  their  family.  Besides,  seeing  Marie  daily  and 
receiving  gentle  administrations  from  her  hands,  was 
proving  a  heavy  load  for  certain  resolutions  to  carry. 
But  he  was  not  to  escape  mademoiselle  thus.  It  was 
openly  talked  that  Michigan  people  meant  to  burn 


The  Wolverine  233 

the  place,  and  the  cousins,  Marie  and  Claire,  felt  the 
times  were  too  strenuous  to  prolong  their  visit;  so 
an  excuse  was  made  to  return  while  they  might  have 
the  company  of  Antoine.  As  soon  as  Perry  could  be 
on  his  feet,  therefore,  the  Detroit  party  sailed  away 
from  the  Maumee  and  the  much-coveted  town  on  its 
banks. 

Perry  never  appeared  to  better  advantage  than  when 
thanking  someone  for  a  kindness,  and  his  parting 
from  the  Beaucoeurs  made  a  very  touching  picture. 
He  had  no  words  to  express  his  gratitude,  but  he  mur- 
mured something  which,  coupled  with  his  fine  bearing, 
told  more  than  aught  else  how  deeply  sensible  he  was 
of  all  that  had  been  done  for  him  under  their  roof. 
"I  have  a  mother,  Mrs.  Beaucceur," — his  use  of  the 
English  term  instead  of  "madame"  showed  how 
deeply  moved  he  was — "I  have  a  mother,"  he  repeated 
"let  her  thank  you ;  and  if  you  will  look  in  your  heart 
for  a  mother's  thanks — I  am  sure  I  need  not — cannot 
say  more."  He  finished  with  trembling  voice  and 
eyes  suffused  with  tears.  Then  he  seemed  to  lose  the 
last  of  his  Puritan  self-repression,  for,  yielding  to  his 
feelings  and  something  which  he  saw  in  madame's 
countenance,  he  bent  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

Very  different  was  his  parting  from  Marie.  Once 
landed  in  Detroit,  he  seemed  to  forget  her  very  pres- 
ence. His  studied  neglect  was  further  accentuated  by 
the  few  formal  words  of  thanks  which,  on  second 
thought  as  it  were,  he  sent  through  her  brother  An- 
toine. 

"Ah!  he  does  not  forgive  me,"  thought  mademoi- 


234  The  Wolverine 

selle,  with  an  aching  sensation  in  her  throat.  Her 
face  was  pale  all  that  day,  but  at  night  two  red  spots 
burned  in  her  cheeks,  and  when  Governor  Mason 
called  she  was  particularly  kind  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  last  census  had  revealed  a  population  of 
eighty  thousand  souls,  considerably  more  than 
enough  to  entitle  Michigan  to  admission  into 
the  Union,  according  to  the  Ordinance  of  1787.  A 
convention  had  been  called  some  time  since  to  form  a 
State  constitution,  and  to  this  assembly  Perry  was 
elected  a  delegate.  With  little  practical  experience, 
he  was  yet  one  of  the  best  read  men  of  the  Territory, 
and  his  words  were  always  listened  to  with  respect 
and  interest.  He  never  addressed  the  Chair  without 
being  mindful  of  the  gilded  eagle  perched  above — 
the  same  which,  back  in  Virginia,  had  looked  down 
on  the  old  House  of  Burgesses  and  listened  to  the 
eloquence  of  Henry,  the  logic  of  Jefferson,  and  the 
wisdom  of  Washington;  and  he  strove  to  be  worthy 
of  the  traditions  surrounding  the  noble  bird. 

Because  of  Mason's  action  in  the  controversy  with 
Ohio,  President  Jackson  removed  him  from  his  office, 
but  within  a  month  the  people  of  Michigan  elected 
the  deposed  "stripling"  to  be  first  governor  of  the 
Commonwealth. 

When  this  new  applicant  for  statehood  came  knock- 


236  The  Wolverine 

ing  at  the  doors  of  Congress,  however,  she  was  refused 
admission  for  purely  partisan  reasons,  till  she  should 
adopt  the  boundary  line  claimed  by  Ohio.  For  months 
Michigan  held  an  anomalous  position.  At  home  she 
was  a  State,  abroad  a  Territory.  Dual  Governments 
were  in  existence  within  her  borders, — at  least,  Presi- 
dent Jackson's  appointee  was  there,  though  he  was 
politely  ignored  by  the  influential  classes,  while  the 
ruder  populace  were  hardly  restrained  from  mobbing 
him. 

Governor  Mason  had  meanwhile  established  him- 
self in  private  quarters,  and  brought  up  from  Virginia 
the  house  servants  made  necessary  in  the  changed 
circumstances.  One  of  these  slaves,  a  powerful  black 
fellow,  had  taken  the  fancy  of  a  Kentucky  planter 
named  Daly,  who  was  spending  the  summer  in  De- 
troit. Daly  had  brought  with  him  some  fine  thorough- 
bred horses,  one  of  which  Mason  coveted  as  the  only 
thing  lacking  to  make  a  proper  appearance  at  the 
head  of  the  militia.  Every  time  these  two  men  met — 
and  that  was  about  every  evening  at  the  bar  of  the 
Steamboat  Hotel — Mason  importuned  the  planter  to 
place  this  animal  on  sale,  making  flattering  offers  for 
the  same  in  good  coin  of  the  realm.  Daly  refused  to  sell 
this  horse,  but  he  offered  to  trade  even  for  the  Gov- 
ernor's slave.  Mason  was  averse  to  negro  trading, 
and  declared  he  meant  to  free  his  blacks.  Indeed,  he 
had  the  papers  all  made  out  save  his  signature,  when 
Blackburn,  as  this  slave  was  called,  took  matters  in 
his  own  hands  and  escaped  into  Canada.  In  a  fit  of 
rage  now,  Mason  tore  up  the  nearly  executed  papers, 
and  there  the  matter  rested  so  far  as  he  was  concerned. 


The  Wolverine  237 

Not  so  with  Daly.  He  had  watched  the  negro 
closely,  and  learned  that  in  his  short  stay  the  fellow 
had  risen  to  be  the  foremost  preacher  in  the  black 
colony  at  Detroit.  He  correctly  judged  that  the 
negro  brethren  would  not  be  content  to  forego  his 
stirring  words,  and,  chewing  on  his  favorite  weed, 
he  bided  his  time.  He  had  not  long  to  wait.  Promis- 
ing themselves  to  maintain  the  most  profound  secrecy 
the  blacks  prevailed  upon  the  runaway  slave  to  ven- 
ture back  across  the  river  on  a  certain  Saturday,  and, 
at  dead  of  night,  before  the  brethren  assembled  in  the 
little  log  meeting-house  behind  thickly  curtained 
windows  and  heavily  barred  doors,  the  negro  preacher 
delivered  one  of  his  moving  sermons.  But  there  was 
a  Jezebel  in  their  midst,  a  "yeller  gal"  with  a  white 
lover,  and  through  her,  Blackburn's  visit  became 
known  to  the  Kentuckian,  who  waited  this  oppor- 
tunity. 

That  evening,  as  the  gentlemen  were  playing  at 
cards  in  the  Kentuckian's  rooms,  Mason  renewed  his 
offer  for  the  coveted  horse. 

"No — but  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  answered  Daly. 
"I'll  play  you  a  game,  and  I'll  stake  Bluegrass  against 
your  runaway  nigger  Blackburn.  What  do  you  say, 
Governor?" 

This  was  a  temptation  to  the  young  man.  The 
odds  were  ridiculously  out  of  proportion,  but  alto- 
gather  in  his  favor.  He  had  practically  nothing  to 
lose,  and  a  chance  of  winning  the  prize  on  which  his 
heart  had  long  been  set.  Stakes  had  been  small,  but 
the  toddies  numerous.  With  slight  hesitation  Mason 
accepted  the  Kentuckian's  proposition;  and  the 


238  The  Wolverine 

game  was  played,  with  all  the  other  gentlemen  look- 
ing on  and  expressing  their  comments  as  fortune 
favored  first  one  and  then  the  other.  The  Governor 
lost;  and  Daly  asked  and  obtained  a  deed  of  owner- 
ship that  night. 

A  little  after  midnight,  Blackburn's  new  master 
and  Sheriff  Wilson  with  a  posse  of  men  hid  them- 
selves in  a  clump  of  willows  on  the  river  bank  near 
the  spot  where  the  negro  preacher's  canoe  was 
beached.  There  had  been  a  moon  earlier  in  the  night, 
but  it  was  quite  dark  now.  It  occurred  to  Wilson  as 
they  waited,  that  Blackburn's  hearers  would  accom- 
pany him  to  the  river  to  see  that  he  was  safely  em- 
barked on  his  return  to  Canada.  Wilson  deemed  it 
wisest  to  have  as  little  disturbance  accompany  the 
re-capture  as  possible,  and  so  resorted  to  strategy. 

A  deputy  and  several  men  were  sent  to  make  a 
demonstration  about  the  darkened  meeting-house. 
They  were  instructed  to  permit  the  preacher  to  escape 
through  their  cordon,  apparently  unobserved,  while 
they  were  to  continue  the  search  about  the  premises 
and  so  hold  the  congregation  there.  The  Sheriff, 
Daly,  and  two  or  three  remained  near  the  canoe  to 
make  the  real  capture  when  Blackburn  should  appear, 
out  of  breath  from  his  flight,  and  accompanied  by 
one  or  two  followers. 

Everything  worked  perfectly  in  the  denouement. 
While  there  was  a  great  hue  and  cry  at  the  meeting- 
house, on  the  river  bank  there  was  only  a  moment's 
noiseless  struggle.  Then  Blackburn,  securely  bound, 
was  tumbled  into  a  French  cart,  and  hurried  away  to 
jail. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE  exciting  events  which  followed  the  capture 
of  Blackburn  have  passed  into  the  history  of 
Detroit  as  the  Negro  insurrection.  Peaceful 
dwellers  of  the  town  and  pioneer  wayfarers  en  route 
to  new  homes  in  the  wilderness,  awoke  on  that  Sun- 
day morning  to  find  the  streets  in  possession  of  a 
frenzied  black  mob.  Marie  Beaucoeur  was  so  fright- 
ened on  her  way  to  early  mass  that  she  sought  refuge 
with  Elva  Webber  under  Mrs.  Rolland's  friendly  roof. 
An  old  negress,  carrying  a  rudely-constructed  ban- 
ner, had  charged  upon  her  with  a  score  of  angry  fol- 
lowers, crying:  "She's  de  Gub'noh's  sweetheart!  Tak' 
vengeance  on  de  Gub'noh's  sweetheart!  He  done  shet 
up  our  Preacher.  Let's  we-alls  shet  up  hez  white 
gal!" 

Armed  with  clubs  and  stones,  all  day  the  black 
mob  stood  before  the  jail,  threatening  to  overpower 
the  Sheriff,  break  in  and  liberate  their  favorite 
preacher.  The  wholesome  fear  of  firearms  alone 
deterred  them  from  making  a  concerted  attack.  It 
was  believed  by  them  that  Blackburn's  capture  had 
been  in  the  interest  of  the  Governor,  and  from  time 


t 
240  The  Wolverine 

to  time  a  band  of  dusky  rioters  paraded  before 
Mason's  new  home,  with  menacing  attitude,  shouting 
jeers  and  threats  at  the  house. 

Faithful  Mammie  Chloe,  from  behind  curtained 
windows,  reported  to  the  Governor's  frightened  sis- 
ters what  was  taking  place  in  the  street.  "Hit  am 
Mammie  Crosswhite  what  am  leading  dose  fool  nig- 
gahs!"  she  declared,  excitedly.  "I  t'ink  she'd  be 
ashamed  o'  herself.  But  I  reckon  she  doan  know  what 
shame  is!  What  for  dey  come  heah?  Dat  low  down 
Blackburn  ain't  got  no  call  to  say  dis  hes  home,  t'ank 
de  Lawd!  Massah  Tom  done  mak'  good  bargain 
when  he  sell  dat  niggah  to  de  gemmen  from  Kain- 
tuck.  Heah  dose  fool  words  what  dey  say!  I  reckon 
dey  doan  know  Massah  Tom  done  sell  dat  trash!" 

Chloe  had  overheard  Mason  tell  his  mother  that 
he  had  parted  with  all  right  and  title  to  his  late  slave, 
and  that  the  ownership  was  now  vested  in  Daly.  A 
messenger  had  come  early  to  the  house,  explained 
the  nature  of  the  disturbance  in  a  few  hurried  sen- 
tences, and  requested  the  Governor  to  meet  with  Gen- 
eral Cass  and  others  in  a  council  looking  toward  the 
protection  of  life  and  property.  From  the  few  hasty 
words  which  she  had  overheard,  Chloe  had  drawn 
such  conclusions  as  suited  her  fancy. 

"I  reckon  I  put  dat  b'iler  o'  water  over  an'  heat  it 
up,"  said  Chloe,  presently,  as  the  shouts  in  the  streets 
became  more  threatening.  "An'  den  if  dey  gits  too 
sassy  and  comes  nigh  de  doah,  I'se  jus'  gwine  t'  give 
'em  a  dipperful  in  de  face.  Dat's  what  I's  gwine  to 
do.  Now,  Honeys,  doan  you  go  to  gettin'  skeered. 
I  reckon  I  kin  be  'nough  for  every  las'  niggah  in  de 


The  Wolverine  24 1 

Michigan  Territory.  Dose  Norfern  black  trash  doan 
know  what  a  real  Vaginnie  niggah  kin  do.  But  I'se 
gwine  to  show  'em,  Honeys."  And  she  swept  away, 
a  mountain  of  black  flesh,  to  the  kitchen. 

But  the  mob  in  front  of  the  house  was  presently 
called  elsewhere.  A  son  of  Africa,  wearing  nothing 
but  a  pair  of  trousers,  belted  at  the  waist,  came  run- 
ning up  the  street,  calling  loudly  to  re-enforce  their 
friends  before  the  jail.  The  Sheriff  was  about  to 
remove  Blackburn  to  the  boat;  and  the  messenger 
pointed  to  the  wharf  where  the  "Sheldon  Thompson" 
lay  with  steam  up,  the  light-colored  wood-smoke 
pouring  from  her  funnels. 

"It  would  be  folly  to  try  to  remove  your  man  in  the 
face  of  such  a  mob,"  declared  Wilson,  as  he  and  Daly 
peered  from  an  upper  window  of  the  jail.  "It  would 
take  a  whole  company  of  soldiers  to  hold  them  in 
check;  and  I  haven't  a  dozen  men  with  me.  You'll 
have  to  give  up  your  plan  of  taking  him  on  the  boat 
to-day.  To-morrow  the  coast  may  be  clear.  We'll 
spread  a  report  that  you've  given  up  the  idea  of  taking 
Blackburn  down  the  river.  To-morrow  those  infuri- 
ated black  devils  will  all  be  at  work,  and  there'll  be 
some  chance  of  getting  your  man  off  without  blood- 
shed." 

"By  gad,  I  wish  I  was  in  Kentucky!"  exclaimed 
Daly,  fuming  because  his  plans  were  frustrated.  "A 
heap  of  courage  you  fellows  at  the  North  have  got!" 
he  declared  with  sarcasm.  "Three  good  Kentucky 
gentlemen  would  disperse  that  howling  pack  of  curs 
in  one  minute.  Lord!  how  I  would  like  to  jump  on 
the  back  of  Bluegrass,  and  ride  into  them  devils  by 


242  The  Wolverine 

the  side  of  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  Cleigh  and  Fairfield 
Breckenridge.  There'd  be  a  right  smart  scattering 
of  niggers,  or  before  you  could  say  'Who  killed 
Tecumseh?'  there'd  be  black  carcasses  to  put  under 
the  sod.  You've  got  to  kill  a  nigger  about  every  week, 
or  they'd  run  the  plantation  just  as  they're  running 
your  town  now." 

"There's  no  need  of  anybody's  getting  killed,  if 
you  only  make  use  of  a  little  strategem,"  returned 
the  Sheriff.  "What's  one  day  if  it  will  save  bloodshed? 
I  believe  in  going  slow  just  now.  Your  Southern 
slaves  aren't  like  our  Northern  free  Negroes.  Your 
methods  won't  do  here.  These  fellows  aren't  so  easily 
overawed  as  are  your  blacks,  who  are  continually 
under  the  lash." 

"Why,  I  tell  you  this  is  galling  to  a  Southern  gen- 
tleman!" cried  the  Kentuckian,  as  threats  reached  him 
through  the  open  window.  "Domineered  by  niggers! 
Where's  your  militia?  Where  the  devil's  your  young 
Governor?  He's  got  none  of  your  Northern  blood  in 
his  veins.  He'll  do  something  right  smart,  I  reckon, 
if  I  can  get  word  to  him." 

"Just  you  keep  cool,  Mr.  Daly.  Governor  Mason 
is  at  the  Capitol  conferring  with  General  Cass,  who 
has  just  arrived  from  Washington  on  a  visit  to  his 
home.  The  militia,  as  you  know,  has  gone  to  fight 
Black  Hawk.  But  there  are  two  companies  of  regu- 
lars at  Fort  Gratiot,  which  the  General  will  order 
here  if  it  is  deemed  necessary  to  preserve  the  peace. 
It  strikes  me  we're  already  doing  a  good  deal  to  put 
you  in  possession  of  property  doubtfully  yours?" 


The  Wolverine  243 

"What  do  you  mean?"  blustered  Daly,  red  with 
anger  and  vexation. 

"I  mean  to  do  my  full  duty  in  my  own  way," 
returned  the  Sheriff,  ignoring  the  Kentuckian's  real 
question.  And  this  was  all  the  satisfaction  that  could 
be  got  out  of  him. 

At  four  o'clock  the  "Sheldon  Thompson"  steamed 
away.  The  negroes,  having  thwarted  the  officers, 
and  finding  that  their  preacher  was  safe  for  a  time, 
began  to  disperse.  At  dark  there  were  barely  a  half 
dozen  left  on  the  streets,  and  the  authorities  went  to 
their  beds  that  night  feeling  the  worst  was  passed. 
But  at  twelve  o'clock,  at  two  o'clock,  and  again  at 
four  o'clock  the  inhabitants  were  awakened  by  alarms 
of  fire.  The  total  destruction  of  the  town  was  still 
within  the  memory  of  many  of  its  citizens,  and  such  a 
cry  speedily  aroused  them  to  energetic  action.  Though 
the  water  barrels  were  found  to  be  tipped  over,  or 
otherwise  emptied  of  their  contents,  the  newly  insti- 
tuted underground  reservoirs  saved  the  city  from  a 
conflagration.  Everything  pointed  to  a  studied 
preparation  of  an  incendiary  nature,  and  suspicion 
naturally  fell  on  the  Negroes. 

At  daylight,  the  black  mob  re-assembled  with 
increased  numbers.  The  streets  were  paraded  with  a 
boldness  that  waxed  as  each  succeeding  lawless  act 
went  unrebuked.  The  midsummer  sun  favored  them 
with  a  fierce,  tropic  heat,  akin  to  their  native  clime. 
Excepting  the  time  of  the  thunderstorm  in  the  after- 
noon, scarcely  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring  all  day. 
The  cowed  inhabitant  had  at  any  time  but  to  go  to  his 
door,  if  the  din  was  not  in  his  very  street,  to  hear  it 


244  The  Wolverine 

progressing  with  unabated  frenzy  in  some  other  quar- 
ter of  the  town.  Convinced,  at  last,  that  a  show  of 
force  would  be  necessary  to  restore  quiet,  General 
Cass,  at  the  request  of  Mayor  Chapin,  despatched 
word  for  a  company  of  United  States  troops  from 
Fort  Gratiot. 

Urged  on  by  Daly,  Sheriff  Wilson  made  an  attempt 
at  the  noon  hour  to  remove  Blackburn  from  the  jail 
to  a  boat  which  was  about  to  leave  for  some  port  in 
Ohio.  The  moment  seemed  advantageous,  for  the 
rioters,  leaving  a  handful  to  watch  the  jail,  had  sepa- 
rated into  two  bands,  each  having  a  stolen  pig,  which 
it  was  proposed  to  barbecue.  But  the  Sheriff's  judg- 
ment was  at  fault  in  estimating  the  distance  they  had 
taken  themselves  to.  At  a  signal  from  the  watch,  like 
two  storm  clouds  they  came  together,  and  a  perfect 
cyclone  swept  down  upon  the  officer  and  his  half- 
dozen  deputies  before  they  had  proceeded  a  third  of 
the  distance  to  the  river. 

Armed  with  clubs  and  stones,  -and  in  a  few  instances 
with  weapons  of  a  deadlier  sort,  the  howling  con- 
course set  upon  the  little  posse.  The  cart  in  which 
Blackburn  was  being  conveyed  was  surrounded,  and 
further  progress  stopped;  shots  were  fired,  and  the 
Sheriff  fell,  blood  streaming  from  a  severe  wound  in 
the  chest.  Blackburn  was  seized  by  his  friends,  un- 
bound, and  with  cries  of  demoniac  joy,  escorted  to 
the  river,  where  were  canoes  which  conveyed  him  and 
his  adherents  safely  to  the  Canadian  shore. 

Exaggerated  stories  of  the  fight  passed  from  house 
to  house,  and  for  a  time  terror  reigned  in  the  city. 
Business  was  completely  at  a  standstill.  Women  dared 


The  Wolverine  245 

not  venture  out  of  doors.  Merchants  put  up  their  shut- 
ters, shoved  their  bolts  into  place,  and  stood,  gun  in 
hand,  in  their  darkened  shops,  guarding  their  goods. 
No  one  knew  what  the  Negroes  would  do  under  the 
intoxication  of  success,  and  at  least  two  days  must 
elapse  before  troops  would  arrive  from  Fort  Gratiot. 

Among  the  followers  of  the  negress  Crosswhite 
when  she  led  the  unsuccessful  charge  on  Marie  Beau- 
cceur,  was  Baptiste  Bovie.  He  was  a  son  of  Beau- 
cceur's  slave  Tetro,  but  the  Ordinance  of  1787  made 
him  a  free  negro,  while  his  father  remained  in  bond- 
age. Mammie  Crosswhite's  action  had  given  him  an 
idea.  In  his  mind,  Governor  Mason  was  absolute 
ruler,  and  it  was  for  him  that  Blackburn  had  been  re- 
captured. The  proper  thing  now  was  to  make  a 
counter  capture  to  strike  the  Governor  as  close  home 
as  possible,  then  negotiate  for  an  exchange  of  prison- 
ers. On  Monday  morning  Baptiste  learned  that 
Marie  had  crossed  the  river  in  a  canoe,  proceeding 
toward  Mere  Gobielle's;  thus  giving  him  a  second 
grand  chance  to  take  the  great  man's  sweetheart. 

At  the  very  hour  when  the  fight  was  going  on  in 
the  streets  of  Detroit,  Marie,  all  unconscious  of  dan- 
ger, came  tripping  down  the  path  from  Mere  Gobi- 
elle's house,  several  miles  away,  to  the  spot  where 
she  had  left  her  canoe.  Grand'mere  had  inquired  why 
she  never  brought  Monsieur  North  to  see  her  any 
more,  and  Marie  was  pondering  on  the  reply  she  had 
made,  and  wondering  whether  the  saints  would  ever 
forgive  her  for  telling  a  half-truth  which  seemed  a 
monstrous  lie,  when  there  was  a  crash  in  the  bushes 
before  her,  and  a  rush  at  her  back,  and  she  found 


The  Wolverine 

herself  surrounded  by  three  burly  negroes.  Marie 
screamed  so  grand'mere  heard,  but  what  could  a 
decrepit  woman  do  in  the  shadow  of  her  hundred 
years?  The  negroes  grinned,  and  closed  upon 
mademoiselle. 

"Bust  your  pretty  throat,"  growled  Baptiste  Bo  vie, 
"but  it  won't  do  you  no  good.  You've  got  to  come 
with  us."  And  he  took  her  roughly  by  the  hand. 

"Baptiste!  Let  me  go!"  cried  Marie,  nearly  beside 
herself  with  fright.  Though  Baptiste  and  she  had 
been  playmates  when  very  young,  he  was  none  the 
less  terrible  in  his  full-grown  madness.  "I  shall 
report  you,"  she  threatened.  "Monsieur  le  gouver- 

neur  will  hang "  But  she  got  no  farther.  A  great 

yellow-black  palm  closed  over  her  mouth;  she  was 
lifted  bodily  from  the  ground,  and  borne  swiftly  to 
the  water's  edge;  in  her  own  canoe  she  was  carried 
away  up  the  river  to  a  lone  island,  and  there  securely 
hidden  in  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

Tetro  had  taken  no  part  in  the  uprising,  but 
remained  loyal  to  his  master,  and  loudly  denounced 
the  actions  of  his  fellow  negroes.  That  night  there 
was  an  excited  interview  between  father  and  son,  for 
at  a  late  hour  Baptiste  returned  to  town  prepared  to 
treat  with  the  whites,  through  the  old  man,  for  an 
exchange  of  prisoners.  But  learning  of  Blackburn's 
escape,  and  that  other  arrests  had  been  made,  he  now 
proposed  to  hold  Marie  till  all  blacks  should  be  set 
free,  with  a  promise  that  no  prosecutions  would  follow. 
Tetro  poured  out  his  indignation  in  good,  round 
French  terms,  thanking  le  bon  Dieu  that  his  son  bore 


The  Wolverine  247 

a  different  name,  and  declaring  henceforth  he  should 
refuse  to  own  him  kin  at  all. 

From  the  moment  that  Baptiste  confessed  the  cap- 
ture of  Marie,  Tetro  had  risen  and  paced  the  floor,  his 
fingers  opening  and  closing  in  fists  like  iron,  for 
despite  the  disadvantages  of  years,  there  was  every 
impulse  to  attack  this  degenerate  son.  Marie  was  a 
great  favorite  with  the  old  slave;  he  had  waited  on  her 
from  her  birth;  had  led  her  first  tottering  steps  to 
seek  the  meadow-lark's  nest,  had  carried  her  on  his 
shoulders  to  the  forest  to  make  the  acquaintance  of. 
the  shy  flowers  that  grew  there;  he  had  built  cages 
for  her,  and  filled  them  with  little  furry  animals,  and 
together  they  had  studied  a  thousand  and  one  of  the 
natural  beauties  which  the  old  man  knew  so  well. 
His  wrath  mounted  with  each  moment  of  the  inter- 
view, till  he  declared  he  would  not  act  as  go-between 
for  the  lawless  element,  and  stepping  between  Baptiste 
and  the  door,  he  threatened  to  turn  him  over  to  the 
authorities  to  make  one  more  among  the  prisoners 
which  they  held. 

Baffled,  and  feeling  that  his  safety  was  imperilled, 
the  younger  negro  became  enraged.  Hissing  out 
a  nameless  threat  against  Marie,  he  sprang  upon  his 
gray-haired  father  and  bore  him  to  the  floor.  The 
next  instant  he  escaped  through  the  door,  leaving  the 
old  man  but  half  conscious,  with  hands  covering  his 
face,  groaning  aloud. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

AT  three  o'clock  there  had  been  a  heavy  thunder- 
storm,   yet   the   over-heated    atmosphere    was 
scarcely  changed.    Sweeping  down  the  Clinton 
River,  the  tempest  drove  ashore  a  canoe  bearing  an 
Indian  and  a  white  man,  with  a  set  of  surveyor's 
instruments.     The  two   sought  shelter  under  some 
hazel  bushes  till  the  clouds  spent  themselves,  when 
they  launched  their  birch  bark  and  pushed  on  as  if 
time  was  an  important  factor  in  their  calculations. 

Work  had  taken  Perry  away  from  Detroit  early  in 
the  spring,  with  every  promise  of  detaining  him  till 
late  in  the  autumn.  The  interior  was  rapidly  filling 
up  with  settlers,  who  were  crying  for  improved  high- 
ways, and  as  the  best  lines  for  these  roads  were  to  be 
determined  upon,  numerous  surveys  were  necessary 
through  the  primeval  forest.  Besides,  Michigan,  too, 
had  a  canal  project  on  hand,  for  people  then  had 
more  faith  in  this  mode  of  transportation  than  in 
the  newly  invented  steam-locomotive.  This  canal  was 
to  connect  Lake  Michigan  with  the  river  near  De- 
troit, and  so  cut  off  the  long,  circuitous  route  through 
the  Straits  of  Mackinaw.  It  was  these  duties  that 


The  Wolverine  249 

kept  Perry  from  marching  away  with  the  Bradies 
when  they  went  to  the  Black  Hawk  war,  but  as  none 
of  the  Michigan  men  saw  active  service,  his  time 
was  better  employed  in  peacefully  advancing  civiliza- 
tion. 

A  strange  accident,  however,  happened  to  his  sur- 
veyor's level  in  the  middle  of  summer,  and  for  a  time 
put  a  stop  to  his  work.  The  tripod  had  been  left 
standing  a  short  distance  from  camp.  In  the  middle 
of  night  one  of  his  men,  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep 
by  some  prowling  beast,  fancied  a  single  red  eye 
staring  at  him  from  the  forest  blackness.  Seizing  his 
gun,  he  fired  at  what  he  believed  a  panther,  but  which 
proved  to  be  the  object-glass  of  the  level  reflecting  the 
dying  light  of  the  camp-fire.  The  shot  was  perfectly 
aimed,  and  caused  the  destruction  of  the  lens.  Taking 
an  Indian  guide,  Perry  had  set  out  with  all  haste  for 
Detroit,  where  he  hoped  to  repair  the  damages. 

Reaching  the  lake,  they  turned  southward  past 
Huron  point,  heading  toward  Milk  River.  Night  did 
not  hinder  their  progress,  for  a  bright  moon  promised 
to  hang  in  the  heavens  till  past  midnight.  Along  the 
western  horizon,  however,  a  bank  of  billowy  cloud 
glowed  from  time  to  time  with  a  fitful  light,  accom- 
panying which  were  surly  mutterings  that  threatened 
to  nullify  the  moon's  promise.  The  Indian,  kneeling 
in  the  stern,  silent,  and  naked  above  the  waist, 
plied  the  short  paddle  with  tireless  energy.  By  and 
by  he  made  a  slight  change  in  the  course,  and  the 
canoe  was  pointed  toward  the  broad  Detroit,  into 
wh\ch  the  lake  water  flowed. 

They  had  barely  entered  the  river  when  moon  and 


25°  The  Wolverine 

cloud,  long  hastening  toward  each  other  in  the  west- 
ern sky,  met,  and  earth  and  water  were  swallowed  in 
inky  blackness. 

"It  make  um  rain  putty  soon,"  said  the  Indian,  but 
with  no  cessation  of  the  paddle. 

"We'll  have  to  put  ashore  again,  won't  we,  Many 
Talk?"  inquired  the  white  man,  trying  to  peer  ahead, 
as  lightning  flashes  gave  him  advantage. 

"Cha-pens,"  replied  the  Indian  in  his  own  French, 
which,  after  a  number  of  strokes,  he  interpreted  as, 
"T'ink  so."  His  companion  was  too  familiar  with 
the  conceit  which  made  this  silent  creature  speak  his 
few  words  in  the  three  or  four  dialects  at  his  com- 
mand, to  show  amusement  at  this  time. 

"Me  know  un  beau  wigwam.  French  she  mak' 
him.  Go  way  moch  jour.  We  git  um  putty  soon." 
From  this  Perry  gathered  that  his  guide  knew  of  a 
deserted  hut  near,  in  which  they  could  take  shelter 
till  the  storm  passed.  He  asked  no  questions,  but 
when  the  canoe  was  pushed  through  some  bushes  to 
a  low  bank,  took  a  few  belongings  and  stepped  ashore. 
Many  Talk  pulled  the  birch-bark  in  after  him,  and 
deftly  turned  it  over,  as  a  protection  to  what  was  left 
behind.  Then  he  silently  moved  into  the  forest. 

They  had  not  gone  far  before  the  Indian  grunted. 
"French  fink  come  back,"  he  said.  And  the  one  fol- 
lowing saw  the  light  of  a  fire  burning  a  short  distance 
ahead.  The  ground  was  spongy,  so  there  was  nothing 
to  herald  their  coming,  and  both  were  inside  the  hut 
before  their  presence  was  suspected. 

The  Indian's  "Bon"  was  hardly  uttered  when  he 
was  fiercely  pushed  aside,  and  one  of  the  inmates 


The  Wolverine  251 

fled  percipitously  into  the  forest.  Then  a  cry  from 
some  hidden  corner  set  the  white  man's  blood  tingling 
as  it  had  not  in  many  months. 

"Dieu  merci!  c'est  Monsieur  North!" 

Instantly,  the  remaining  negroes  set  upon  the 
intruders,  and  a  fierce  and  deadly  struggle  ensued. 
The  contest  was  even,  so  far  as  numbers  were  con- 
cerned, yet  within  a  minute  the  Indian's  life  was  for- 
feited for  a  cause  he  never  knew.  His  antagonist, 
thinking  only  of  self-preservation,  fled  the  instant  life- 
less hands  ceased  to  hold  him,  after  his  knife  was 
buried  in  the  Red  Man's  heart.  Perry  and  Baptiste 
continued  to  struggle  with  all  the  fury  of  great  muscu- 
lar men,  one  fighting  for  life,  the  other  for  something 
dearer  than  life.  The  wound  received  at  Toledo  made 
itself  felt  like  a  cold  hand  clutching  at  Perry's  heart, 
and  he  wondered  how  long  he  could  keep  up  the  fight. 
But  the  moment  his  strength  began  to  fail,  the  negro 
broke  away,  and  followed  his  companions  into  the 
night  and  the  storm,  which  was  now  raging  through 
the  forest. 

Perry  and  Marie  were  alone  in  a  hut  full  of  horror. 
The  dead  Indian  had  fallen  with  one  arm  in  the  fire, 
and  the  smell  of  burning  flesh  filled  the  hot,  damp 
atmosphere.  So  excited  was  Perry  he  did  not  become 
conscious  of  this  till  after  he  had  liberated  Marie 
from  the  cords  which  bound  her.  A  glance  or  two 
that  conveyed  more  than  their  few  exclamations,  was 
all  that  passed  between  them.  Perry  continually 
turned  toward  the  door,  not  knowing  how  soon  he 
would  be  set  on  again,  perhaps  by  overwhelming  num- 
bers. 


2 $z  The  Wolverine 

Without,  flash  followed  flash  of  the  most  brilliant 
lightning,  revealing  tree  trunks  and  underbrush  sway- 
ing in  a  tempest  of  wind.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
Marie  or  Perry  could  hear  the  few  words  they  spoke, 
so  great  was  the  fury  of  the  storm.  The  sound  was 
one  prolonged,  deafening  roar.  Rain  was  falling  in 
torrents,  and  now  and  then,  a  gust  blew  a  cloud  of 
spray  in  at  the  door;  otherwise,  squalid  as  the  hovel 
was,  it  afforded  protection  from  the  elements. 

Guarding  all,  Perry's  eyes  continually  wandered 
from  the  stark,  half-naked  form  of  the  Indian  to 
Marie,  then  to  the  door.  Warily  he  examined  Many 
Talk,  starting  at  every  sound  from  the  forest.  Con- 
vinced that  his  faithful  guide  was  dead,  grim  lines 
came  into  the  white  man's  face.  The  scene,  surpass- 
ing in  hideousness  all  previous  waking  moments,  gave 
the  impress  of  a  horrible  dream.  The  tremor  in  Perry's 
knees,  however,  and  all  else  that  lent  consciousness, 
assured  him  of  the  appalling  reality  of  his  surround- 
ings. 

The  negroes  had  been  cooking  something  for  their 
supper,  which,  during  the  struggle,  was  spilled  into 
the  fire,  and  added  now  to  the  stench.  Blue  smoke 
from  smouldering  embers  curled  through  the  humid 
atmosphere,  stung  the  eyes  and  smarted  in  the  throat. 
Then,  to  add  unknown  terror  to  the  situation,  the 
flames  flickered  and  went  out,  leaving  only  dull  coals 
that  gave  bloody  tinges  to  the  mirk  which  prevailed 
between  the  lightning  flashes. 

Marie  would  gladly  have  shut  her  eyes  to  the  whole 
gruesome  spectacle,  but  some  morbid  quality  seemed 
to  make  it  impossible.  If,  for  a  monent,  this  weak- 


The  Wolverine  253 

ness  was  overcome,  there  followed  an  irresistible  im- 
pulse to  look  upon  the  nightmare  once  more.  The 
storm  was  passing,  and  the  lightning  becoming  less 
and  less  frequent;  but  her  unnatural  gaze  never  fal- 
tered; she  seemed  to  wait  with  rigid  muscles  till  the 
next  flash  should  reveal  again  the  stiffening  form 
and  drawn  features  of  the  dead  Indian.  The  thing 
seemed  an  embodied  climax  of  all  the  frightful  experi- 
ence of  the  past  twelve  hours.  Perry  broke  the  spell 
when  he  threw  his  coat  over  the  ghastly  object,  and 
came  and  touched  Marie  with  an  arm  full  of  assur- 
ance. 

Whatever  they  had  been  once,  whatever  they  would 
be  again,  they  were  now,  of  all  the  natural  universe, 
the  sole  comfort  for  each  other.  There  was  no  attempt 
at  conversation  for  some  time.  The  sound  of  words 
might  draw  unknown  enemies  upon  them.  They 
could  not  flee,  for  they  were  as  likely  to  choose  a  path 
that  led  to  danger  as  one  leading  to  safety.  A  few 
hushed  sentences  of  exclamatory  nature,  a  manner 
that  inspired  hope  and  confidence  from  Perry,  and  an 
attitude  of  complete  trust  on  the  part  of  Marie,  filled 
those  long  waiting  hours. 

The  position  of  protector  and  dominant  agent  came 
to  Perry  as  naturally  as  the  years  of  his  life.  His 
strong,  virile  muscles  began  to  feel  a  fierce  animal  joy 
in  shielding  this  woman  from  others  of  his  kind  and 
the  brute  world.  They  were  both  very  close  to  pri- 
meval conditions.  Events  had  thrust  them  back  thou- 
sands of  years,  but  if  nothing  more  untoward  hap- 
pened, a  few  short  hours  would  carry  them  forward 
again  to  the  conventionalities  of  civilized  life.  Emo- 


254  The  Wolverine 

tions  springing  from  their  horrible  situation  could 
bear  no  relation  to  the  past  nor  carry  promise  of  the 
future. 

With  swift  thought  there  passed  before  Perry  the 
two  Maries  which  his  mind  had  invented — neither  of 
whom,  however,  was  the  real  Marie,  the  Marie  that 
clung  to  his  arm  and  looked  to  him  in  the  dark  for 
protection.  Something  of  this  he  recognized  as  from 
moment  to  moment  the  living,  breathing  Marie  by 
his  side  revealed  qualities  he  had  assigned  to  neither 
of  the  others ;  qualities  that  were  eminently  commend- 
able, and  strongly  invited  a  reincarnation  of  that  per- 
fect Marie  of  his  mind  in  the  warm  flesh  and  blood 
over  which  he  watched. 

The  hovel  serving  as  prison,  death-trap,  refuge,  all 
in  one,  faced  the  northeast;  thus,  with  the  high  alti- 
tude of  the  summer  sun,  its  inmates  caught  the  first 
signs  of  approaching  day.  As  soon  as  it  was  light 
enough  to  see  in  the  forest,  Perry  went  cautiously  to 
the  door  and  reconnoitered.  Marie,  ^rembling  and 
starting  at  every  sound,  followed  him  closely,  shud- 
dering as  they  were  forced  to  step  across  Many  Talk's 
dead  body.  Perry  took  her  by  the  hand  to  give  her 
confidence — when  the  sight  of  her  figure  smote  his 
heart.  There  were  haggard  lines  upon  the  countenance 
once  simply  beautiful.  Disorder  was  about  her  hair 
and  dress.  But  the  sweet  curves  of  her  mouth,  the 
suffering  in  her  face,  her  helplessness  and  trust  in 
him — all  her  womanliness,  in  fact — stirred  his  old 
longing,  and  gave  rise  to  an  impulse  to  catch  her  in 
his  arms,  kiss  away  everything  that  was  painful,  and 


The  Wolverine  255 

fly  with  her  to  some  impossible  region  of  peace  and 
contentment. 

Beyond  themselves,  the  forest  seemed  deserted  of 
all  save  the  birds,  which  were  beginning  to  carol  their 
morning  songs.  Nature,  everywhere  refreshed,  was 
pouring  into  the  crystal  atmosphere  the  sweet,  wild 
odors  of  luxuriant  vegetation  amidst  the  sweep  of 
broad,  pure  waters.  Could  one  forget  what  had  been, 
this  might  seem  that  region  of  peace  and  content- 
ment. But  Marie  had  not  taken  a  dozen  steps  before 
her  strength  gave  out  completely. 

"You  must  permit  me,"  said  Perry,  and  taking 
her  in  his  arms,  he  hurried  to  the  spot  where  Many 
Talk  had  left  their  canoe.  By  clinging  to  his  shoul- 
ders, she  made  it  easier  for  him  to  carry  her.  "When 
have  you  had  anything  to  eat?"  he  asked,  as  they  drew 
near  the  place. 

"There  has  been  but  one  night?"  she  questioned, 
with  weary  reflection;  "then  it  was  yesterday  morn- 
ing. I  did  not  eat  with  grand'mere,  for  I  thought  to 
be  home  in  a  few  minutes.  But  they  carried  me  off 
— the  negroes!" 

"I  have  something  in  the  canoe.  Can  you  stand 
a  minute?  It  is  so  wet  everywhere !"  Perry  was  angry 
because  no  dry  place  had  been  reserved  for  the  bur- 
den he  was  reluctant  to  let  go. 

"Ah,  I  will  be  strong,"  she  declared  bravely,  and 
freeing  herself  from  his  arms,  leaned  against  a  tree 
while  he  rummaged  among  the  effects  of  the  canoe. 

"Drink  a  swallow  from  this,"  he  commanded,  re- 
turning to  her  with  a  small  flask.  "And  here  is  some 
praline  and  a  bit  of  meat  which  I  had  the  Indians 


The  Wolverine 


cure  for  me.  You  must  eat  a  little  while  I  am  launch- 
ing the  canoe.  It  will  be  two  hours  before  we  can 
reach  home." 

"And  you  —  do  you  not  need  to  eat?"  she  asked, 
looking  into  his  face  as  she  took  the  food  from  his 
hands. 

Perry  was  not  likely  to  forget  how  she  thought  of 
him,  distressed  as  she  was  herself. 

"I  will  eat  while  I  work,"  he  replied,  and  set  her  a 
generous  example  by  partaking  of  the  simple  fare, 
which  was  all  that  could  be  provided  in  their  haste 
to  get  away  from  danger. 

Only  a  few  moments  were  required  to  get  the  birch- 
bark  ready.  Then,  with  Marie  a  little  forward  of  the 
centre,  and  himself  in  the  stern,  he  paddled  out  into 
the  blue,  rolling  stream,  broad  and  majestic  in  its 
sweep  between  the  dark-green,  heavily-wooded  banks. 
To  the  right  of  them  widened  the  beautiful  lake, 
with  the  sheen  of  pearl  on  its  surface,  and  along  the 
eastern  horizon  where  shortly  the  sun  was  to  appear. 
There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  azure  heavens  where  the 
night  before  had  raged  such  a  storm;  the  water  alone 
seemed  to  retain  restlessness  born  of  the  tempest,  but 
only  to  a  degree  that  imparted  vigor  to  the  arm 
which  stroked  its  surface. 

The  swallow  of  spirits  and  the  nourishment  had 
refreshed  Marie.  In  a  few  words  she  told  Perry  of 
the  negro  uprising,  while  his  strong  muscles  and  the 
current  swept  them  toward  the  still  sleeping  town, 
from  which  fear  had  not  yet  wholly  departed.  As 
the  horizon  widened  about  them,  with  nothing  more 
threatening  in  sight  than  the  ripples  on  the  water, 


The  Wolverine  257 

confidence  returned,  and  with  it  the  future,  demanding 
thought  and  recognition.  Soon  they  were  to  part 
again,  and  she  could  not  have  it  as  on  that  last  time 
when  they  came  up  from  her  Uncle  Gaspard  Beau- 
coeur's.  She  remembered  the  long-ago  night  at  the 
Justice's,  and  that  this  man  must  still  judge  her  by 
her  action  there — a  righteous  judgment,  she  con- 
ceded; nevertheless,  her  heart  yearned  to  have  it  set 
aside.  Had  she  not  atoned  for  her  sin  by  the  suffering 
of  months  since?  Would  he  not  understand  and  for- 
give if  she  was  to  confess  her  wrong?  He  seemed 
to  desire  only  such  relations  with  her  as  gentlemanly 
conduct  demanded;  this  was  evident  from  his  calm- 
ness and  perfect  bearing  during  the  whole  of  the  hor- 
rible night  they  had  just  come  through.  But  she 
longed  for  his  friendship  and  esteem  as  she  had  had 
them  before  committing  that  terrible  blunder.  Hop- 
ing, longing,  dreading — precious  moments  were 
allowed  to  slip  by.  All  too  soon,  as  it  seemed,  they 
were  at  the  great  tree  where  her  own  canoe  was  usu- 
ally beached — and  would  be  now  had  not  the  negroes 
carried  it  away  when  they  had  stolen  her. 

"Mr.  North "  she  faltered,  extending  her  hand 

as  they  stood  on  the  bank 

"I  will  go  with  you  to  the  house,"  Perry  inter- 
rupted, fancying  he  was  anticipating  some  request 
prompted  by  fear. 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  declared.  "My  life,  you  have 
saved  it!  I  wish  to  say  something.  I  want  you  to 
forgive  me  for  what  I  have  been!  I  cannot  say  it 
now — what  I  wish!  But  you  will  come  again!  You 
will  give  me  a  chance — when  I  am  stronger?  Promise 


258  The  Wolverine 

me,  monsieur.  Ah,  I  cannot  let  you  go  till  you  do 
promise  me  that!" 

Perry  was  not  greatly  surprised  at  her  emotion. 
The  night  had  been  enough  to  shatter  the  strongest 
nerves.  He  did  not  understand,  however.  To  for- 
give her  for  what  she  had  been  meant  simply  for 
the  possible  care  and  trouble  of  the  last  eight  hours. 

"I  have  done  nothing  more,  Miss  Beaucceur,  than 
a  thousand  other  men  would  rejoice  to  do — and  do  as 
well.  To  see  you  safe  once  more  is  all  I  wish  in  the 
shape  of  thanks.  Believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that 
the  less  said  the  better  I  shall  like  it.  My  stay  in 
town  will  be  short.  But  I  will  see  you  again  before  I 
go  back  into  the  woods.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  ill. 
It  has  been  a  terrible  night  for  you — for  a  woman! 
You  have  been  very  brave." 

She  was  clinging  to  his  hand  with  the  clasp  of  one 
drowning.  "Ah,  I  hope  you  will  know  all  sometime 
— how  I  thank  you !"  And  then  they  parted,  he  carry- 
ing away  a  vision  of  her  face  stirred  by  the  deepest 
emotion,  with  tears  on  her  cheeks  reflecting  the  sun 
which  rose  at  that  moment  over  the  wooded  shore 
beyond  the  river  they  had  just  left. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

WHEN  Perry  entered  the  town,  he  found 
armed  citizens  patrolling  its  streets.  He 
went  at  once  to  the  Mayor's  office  and  re- 
ported the  points  in  his  night's  experience,  early 
knowledge  of  which  was  essential  to  the  public  wel- 
fare; then  to  his  boarding  place,  where  his  appear- 
ance created  a  welcome  surprise.  Aside  from  the 
kitchen  servant,  Mrs.  Rolland  and  her  niece  were 
alone  at  the  time,  as  the  one  other  male  boarder  had 
gone  with  the  militia  against  Black  Hawk.  The  ter- 
rifying events  of  the  last  two  days  had  given  the 
women  little  chance  for  rest;  and  the  protection 
afforded  by  a  strong  man's  presence  in  the  house 
became  the  source  of  infinite  relief. 

Breakfast,  which  had  been  served  the  moment 
before  Perry's  arrival,  was  prolonged  for  an  hour  and 
a  half,  for  little  could  be  eaten  when  so  much  was  to 
be  said.  None  cared  if  the  food  did  grow  cold,  and 
Bridget  was  not  rebuked  for  remaining  in  the  dining- 
room  listening  to  the  excited  conversation,  while 
her  rolls  burned  before  the  kitchen  hearth.  Perry 
had  done  nothing  heroic,  and  could  tell  the  story  in  a 


260  The  Wolverine 

straightforward  manner,  simply  and  without  self-con- 
sciousness, as  he  would  relate  any  fortunate  occur- 
rence. He  had  not  driven  the  negroes  away  and  res- 
cued Marie  by  any  display  of  personal  strength  and 
courage.  Her  abductors,  made  cowards  by  their  own 
evil  deeds,  had  fled  in  terror  before  what  they  believed 
a  rescuing  party,  out  in  force.  Perry  never  again  told 
the  story  half  as  well  as  on  that  first  recital.  Ever 
after  he  felt  called  upon  to  explain  the  facts  and  refute 
the  popular  notion  that  he  was  a  hero,  and  this  sadly 
marred  the  narrative. 

"Poor  girl!  I  must  see  her  as  soon  as  it  is  safe  to 
go  abroad,"  said  Elva,  with  genuine  feeling.  "But 
rest  is  what  she  needs  to-day  more  than  anything  else. 
Will  you  take  me  there  to-morrow,  Mr.  North?" 

Perry  said  he  would,  with  pleasure,  and  then  lis- 
tened to  an  account  of  what  had  taken  place  in  the 
town  as  far  as  known  to  the  two  women.  His  brow 
darkened  when  he  heard  of  the  repeated  attempts  the 
negroes  had  made  to  secure  their  captive,  and  the 
reason  for  Marie's  abduction,  involving  the  statement 
that  she  was  the  Governor's  sweetheart,  caused  him 
to  wince.  Perry  wore  his  heavy  boots  and  wilder- 
ness trappings  generally,  making  a  handsome  and 
striking  figure,  a  veritable  Viking  in  form  and  appear- 
ance. An  abundance  of  yellow  hair,  worn  long  as 
was  the  fashion,  covered  a  head  the  face  of  which  was 
bronzed  by  exposure  to  sun  and  wind.  A  glance  out 
of  his  eye,  set  in  a  fearless  countenance,  could  strike 
terror  if  the  moment  demanded  it,  but  ordinarily  one 
saw  only  what  was  frank,  sweet  and  trustful  in  his 
expression. 


The  Wolverine  261 

An  hour  later  he  was  dressed  as  a  man  about  town. 
His  few  days  in  the  Capital  promised  to  be  very  busy 
ones,  and  it  behooved  him  to  lose  no  time  in  setting 
about  his  work.  The  absence  of  the  Brady  Guards 
made  it  easier  for  him,  as  the  wild  young  fellows 
with  whom  he  had  associated  in  these  later  months 
were  not  there  to  demand  an  evening  of  conviviality. 
After  the  regulars  summoned  from  Fort  Gratiot 
arrived,  he  took  Elva  to  see  Marie,  and  with  one  act 
kept  two  promises.  Any  interview  with  mademoiselle 
was  bound  to  be  only  painful,  and  he  determined  not 
to  go  to  the  Beaucoeur  home  again.  Marie  was 
slowly  recovering  from  the  shock  to  which  she  had 
been  rudely  subjected,  and  he  need  burden  himself  no 
further  with  anxiety  regarding  her.  He  could  reflect 
after  this  manner,  but  it  failed  utterly  to  put  out  of 
mind  the  sweet,  pale  face,  the  quiet,  demure  air  of  the 
one  who  received  them  that  afternoon. 

"Marie  isn't  at  all  the  girl  she  used  to  be,"  Elva 
declared,  as  they  came  away.  "I  sometimes  think  she 
has  had  more  to  sober  her  in  the  last  few  months  than 
any  of  us  have  knowledge  of.  Her  recent  experience 
would  cause  her  to  look  dispirited  to-day.  But  I  have 
seen  a  sad  expression  in  her  face  for  a  long  time/' 

There  was  a  question  Perry  determined  to  ask  now, 
first  making  sure  of  hiding  his  feelings  in  the  matter. 
"Once  you  told  me  she  was  a  lovely  girl,"  he  began, 
in  a  tone  made  natural  by  sheer  force  of  will.  "Do  you 
think  she  would  trifle  with  a  man's  heart?  She  was 
very  ill  in  the  spring — after  Etienne  Baddeau's  death. 
You  heard  the  story  that  went  the  rounds  then " 


262  The  Wolverine 

He  ceased  speaking  with  a  rising  inflection,  and  waited 
her  answer  with  quickened  pulse. 

"Yes,  I  heard  the  story.  No,  I  do  not  think  Marie 
would  trifle  with  a  man's  affections,"  replied  Elva, 
categorically.  "We  were  once  quite  intimate,  but 
since  my  visits  to  New  York  we  have  drifted  apart. 
Marie  was  never  one  to  impart  confidences,  so  I  can- 
not say  how  she  regarded.  Etienne  Baddeau.  I  have 
been  interested  in  the  way  her  name  has  been  linked 
with  the  Governor's.  Marie  is  very  loyal  to  her 
Church.  Her  nature  is  not  a  light  one,  and  when  she 
loves  it  will  not  be  lightly.  If  there  should  be  a  clash 
between  her  love  and  her  religion,  I  fancy  it  would 
produce  in  her  just  such  behavior  as  her  friends  have 
witnessed  of  late." 

"You  think  she  loves  the  Governor?"  he  questioned 
slowly  as  one  studying  a  problem.  "He  is  a  Protes- 
tant; she  is  a  Catholic.  Will  she  become  a  Protestant, 
or  will  she  give  him  up?"  But  he  was  thinking — "I 

too  am  a  Protestant,  and  if  she  loves "  He 

allowed  his  reasoning  to  go  no  farther.  Had  he  not 
given  her  up?  What  a  fool  he  was! 

"Or  will  the  Governor  become  a  Catholic?"  his 
companion  interjected 

Perry  checked  the  cynical  laugh  in  his  throat.  If 
he  were  to  become  a  Catholic!  Fate  could  hardly 
be  more  ironical. 

"You  must  not  omit  any  of  the  elements,"  Elva 
added  to  her  interjected  remark.  "I  frankly  admit 
the  answer  is  beyond  me.  I  can  imagine  Marie  in  one 
mood  would  sacrifice  everything  to  her  religion.  Her 
teaching  has  been  such  that  she  might  even  resort  to 


The  Wolverine  263 

practices  that  would  shock  an  outsider.  The  end 
justifies  the  means — you  know,  Mr.  North." 

"I  have  heard  of  that  Romish  motto,"  mused  Perry, 
using  the  thought  as  a  key  to  the  locked  situation,  but 
failing  to  make  an  opening. 

"Under  another  impulse,  she  might  sacrifice  her 
sectarianism  for  a  good  man,"  Elva  continued.  "This 
is  what  I  like  to  think  would  happen.  Marie  is  bound 
to  be  sincere  at  last  in  whatever  she  undertakes. 
There  may  be  moments  of  trifling — or  what  may 
seem  trifling — but  in  reality  is  play  that  leads  to  self- 
revelation,  real  growth,  and  development  of  character. 
Whenever  possible  she  has  sugar-coated  the  bitter 
pills  of  life." 

"  'Under  another  impulse  she  might  sacrifice  her 
sectarianism,' "  Perry  repeated  to  himself.  The 
thought  lured  him  as  the  Lorelei,  but  he  knew  the 
story  of  the  sweet-voiced  siren,  and  was  warned. 
Granting  Marie's  action  the  most  favorable  judgment 
possible,  it  would  take  long  to  eradicate  the  impres- 
sion he  had  received. 

On  two  different  days  Perry  spent  an  hour  with 
Father  Richard,  coming  away  each  time  buoyant 
with  the  strength  and  uplift  of  his  godly  companion- 
ship. The  old  Priest  overflowed  in  gratitude  for  the 
part  he  had  played  in  rescuing  Marie,  who  was  very 
dear  to  him.  He  had  known  her  since  birth,  having 
performed  the  ceremony  at  the  marriage  of  her  par- 
ents. She  was  his  favorite  among  all  the  daughters 
of  his  parish,  and  he  talked  long,  relating  incident 
after  incident  in  her  life,  all  of  which  revealed  a  char- 
acter of  peculiar  sweetness  and  strength.  This, 


264  The  Wolverine 

coupled  with  what  Elva  had  said,  kept  Perry's  mind 
on  the  edge  of  doubt  and  indecision. 

Then  came  the  dinner  Elva  had  determined  upon 
while  the  regulars  were  in  town,  and  before  Perry 
should  return  to  his  work  in  the  interior. 

"I  am  going  to  ask  Mr.  North  to  take  you  out, 
Marie,''  Elva  explained  in  a  moment  alone  with  the 
French  beauty.  "The  Governor,  you  know,  properly 
belongs  to  me.  You  will  not  be  jealous?"  The  words 
were  said  playfully,  but  they  gave  opportunity  for  a 
reply  by  which  mademoiselle  might  be  judged. 

"No  indeed!"  returned  Marie,  with  a  laugh  of 
amusement.  "Really,  you  look  as  if  you  expected  me 
to  be  jealous.  Ah,  Elva,  the  foolish  stories — please  do 
not  believe  them.  It  is  false  that  they  are."  And 
she  looked  quite  annoyed. 

"You  are  such  a  discreet  body,"  Elva  replied,  her 
tones  an  apology.  "I  am  sure  your  nearest  friends 
cannot  tell  what  is  in  your  heart."  And  she  embraced 
her  as  in  the  old  school-girl  days. 

When  Elva  told  Perry  what  she  required  of  him, 
a  frown  came  into  his  frank,  sunburned  face.  Was 
it  not  hard  enough  to  keep  away  from  Marie  of  him- 
self without  having  fate  thrust  her  at  him  at  every 
turn?  It  would  be  impolite  to  offer  objection  to  his 
hostess's  arrangements,  however,  and  so  he  made  the 
best  of  a  trying  situation. 

The  affair  was  a  very  delightful  one  to  most  of 
those  present.  Colonel  Campbell  was  there,  with 
other  red-coated  officers  from  Fort  Maiden,  glad  to 
meet  old  friends  in  blue  again  from  the  fort  above. 
The  recent  adventure  was  of  necessity  much  talked  of, 


The  Wolverine  265 

and  the  way  their  names  were  associated  was  not 
always  pleasing  to  Perry  and  Marie.  However,  Miss 
Webber  directed  conversation  so  well  that  little  em- 
barrassments were  quickly  forgotten,  and  in  the  end 
Perry  congratulated  himself  on  coming  through  the 
ordeal  so  well. 

Wine  was  served,  and  Perry  did  not  turn  down  his 
glass,  as  Marie  noted  at  once,  with  a  little  pang  of 
remorse.  She  half  feared  he  would  go  the  same 
lengths  as  the  other  men,  and  it  was  a  great  relief 
when  his  second  glass  remained  untouched.  For  her 
part,  the  wine  was  not  tasted  through  the  whole  meal, 
though  a  glass  filled  with  the  sparkling  beverage  stood 
beside  her  plate. 

Remembering  Elva's  words,  Perry  noticed  many 
evidences  that  Marie  was  not  her  old  gay  self.  The 
witty  sallies  which  before  had  made  her  the  centre 
of  nearly  every  group,  were  no  longer  let  fly  from  her 
lips.  One  could  not  accuse  her  of  moping,  or  form- 
ing a  shadow  on  an  otherwise  bright  picture.  She 
simply  chose  to  play  a  less  prominent  part,  and  as  in 
society  the  prominent  part  is  generally  played  by  a 
butterfly,  observant  minds  were  sure  to  give  her 
greater  credit.  Perry  felt  the  force  of  this  reasoning 
when  he  thought  it  over  alone  in  his  rooms. 

The  position  in  which  he  and  Marie  found  them- 
selves was  a  strange  one.  They  were  meeting  each 
other  again,  and  as  by  tacit  agreement  ignoring  a 
passage  in  their  lives  which  by  all  the  laws  of  psychics 
should  have  proved  fatal  to  further  intercourse.  Was 
it  right  to  go  on  in  this  way?  Either  Marie  was  guilty 
or  she  was  not  guilty  of  a  very  heinous  offense.  If 


266  The  Wolverine 

she  was  innocent  she  should  long  since  have  de- 
manded an  explanation  of  him.  Not  having  done  so 
was  proof  of  her  guilt,  despite  all  Father  Richard  and 
Elva  Webber  might  say  of  her,  and  he  in  justice  to 
himself,  should  let  her  severely  alone.  To-morrow  he 
would  be  off  to  the  woods  again,  and  that  would  put 
an  end  to  this  useless  torture. 

Perry  had  not  Many  Talk  to  guide  him  back  into 
the  wilderness  now,  and  must  needs  hire  someone  else 
to  convey  him.  The  man  whom  he  secured  proved  to 
be  an  Adventist  follower  of  William  Miller,  who  be- 
lieved the  end  of  the  world  at  hand.  As  the  seventh 
day  was  his  Sabbath,  he  would  not  continue  the  jour- 
ney on  Saturday.  Happening  among  a  pious  commu- 
nity, the  strength  of  long-established  custom  asserted 
itself,  and  Perry  remained  over  Sunday  also.  Although 
he  had  ceased  to  recognize  the  day  as  divinely 
appointed  for  rest,  his  practice  was  in  keeping  with 
his  early  training,  and  he  gave  up  the  hours  to  read- 
ing a  pamphlet  he  had  brought  with  him  entitled, 
Evidences  of  Christianity,  by  William  Ellery  Chan- 
ging. 

On  the  whole,  he  did  not  feel  that  the  two  days  were 
lost,  impatient  as  he  was  to  get  back  and  complete 
his  work  in  the  Grand  River  Valley.  Some  hours 
were  given  up  to  fruitless  argument,  it  was  true,  but  in 
the  main  the  time  was  well  employed.  Saturday  had 
seen  a  grand  wolf  hunt.  In  this  Perry  had  taken 
part,  "borrowing"  the  Adventist's  gun  on  a  hint  from 
its  owner  that  if  he  knew  nothing  of  the  matter  his 
conscience  would  not  be  troubled.  A  night  or  two 
previous  some  neighboring  farmer  had  had  his  best 


The  Wolverine  267 

sheep  slain  by  wolves,  which,  biting  their  victims  in 
the  throat,  drank  their  blood  and  left  the  carcasses 
for  the  foxes.  For  miles  around  the  men  gathered  to 
exterminate  this  ruthless  enemy  of  their  flocks.  The 
great  swamp,  recesses  of  which  formed  dens  for  wild 
creatures  of  every  sort,  was  surrounded;  then  signal- 
ling one  another  with  tin  dinner-horns,  the  hunters 
gradually  drew  in  the  circuit,  shooting  the  fierce  gray 
beasts  as  they  appeared,  driven  to  bay  at  every  quar- 
ter. 

It  was  exciting  sport,  and  many  were  the  stories  told 
at  night  when  the  men  gathered  before  the  doors  of 
their  rude  log  houses.  Perry  was  an  excellent  shot, 
and  had  to  his  credit  no  less  than  five  skins,  which 
he  arranged  to  have  properly  dressed  and  cared  for 
in  his  absence.  While  listening  to  these  adventures, 
the  housewife,  who  reminded  Perry  of  his  mother, 
kept  industriously  at  her  work;  now  she  removed  the 
candles  from  their  moulds,  an  extra  supply  of  which 
had  been  run  that  day  to  light  them  over  Sunday. 
The  most  perfect  ones  were  laid  aside  to  be  carried 
to  the  meeting-house  on  the  morrow,  for  Elder 
Hickox  was  to  preach  there,  on  his  circuit,  both  morn- 
ing and  evening,  and  full  length  candles  would  be 
required  to  out-last  his  second  sermon. 

What  news  Perry  had  of  the  Black  Hawk  war  was 
imparted  to  these  isolated  people,  with  kindred  topics 
of  the  day.  A  number  of  the  young  men  of  the  set- 
tlement had  gone  out  with  the  militia,  and  mothers 
and  sweethearts  were  anxious  for  their  absent  ones. 
The  men  reverted  to  political  matters,  and  all  agreed 
that  Michigan  was  suffering  a  great  injustice  in  its 


268  The  Wolverine 

belated  admission  into  the  Union.  Then,  as  the  wan- 
ing moon  rose  through  the  tree  trunks,  they  separated 
for  such  rest  as  comes  after  a  hard  day's  work. 

The  air  in  the  loft  whither  Perry  was  shown  was 
stifling  with  the  odor  of  soft  soap,  which  had  boiled  all 
day  beneath  the  open  window.  Rather  than  suffer 
the  ills  of  that  hot  chamber,  he  took  a  blanket  and 
went  into  the  forest  to  sleep  as  he  had  on  so  many 
nights  before.  This  was  not  done  by  descending 
the  ladder  which  had  brought  him  to  the  low  room 
under  the  roof,  but  by  springing  stealthily  from  the 
window  to  the  ground  when  all  was  still  below, — lest 
he  cause  his  patient,  mother-faced  hostess  to  regret 
she  could  not  give  him  such  comforts  as  regularly  fall 
to  the  lot  of  a  "city  man/' 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

ECHOES  of  a  dreadful  cholera  epidemic  reached 
Perry  in  the  far-off  wilderness,  but  the  mat- 
ter was  passed  over  at  first  as  an  exaggerated 
report. 

Six  weeks  after  his  last  visit  to  Detroit,  he  was  once 
more  making  his  way  by  forest  and  stream  back  to 
the  Capital.  His  work  in  the  Grand  River  Valley 
had  been  completed  much  earlier  than  he  had  antici- 
pated. Although  the  month  was  September,  the  sun 
shone  with  the  ardor  of  mid-summer,  and  the  canoe 
voyagers  gladly  kept  to  the  shady  side  of  the  streams 
whenever  possible.  Up  the  Looking-glass  they  pro- 
ceeded, then,  after  a  short  portage,  struck  the  Shia- 
wassee;  still  paddling  against  the  current,  they  pushed 
on  up  this  stream  and  its  branches,  making  portages 
from  time  to  time,  traversing  a  dozen  little  lakes, 
pocket  mirrors  that  some  glacial  giant  had  dropped 
in  retreating  across  the  continent,  and,  with  the  last 
watershed  placed  behind,  launched  their  canoes  on  a 
branch  of  the  Clinton,  whose  waters  would  carry  them 
through  Lake  St.  Clair  to  the  Straits. 

High  spirits  reigned  in  the  surveyor's  little  com- 


27°  The  Wolverine 

pany.  Hard  work  was  over  for  a  time;  ahead  lay  the 
greeting  of  old  friends,  and  participation  in  social 
gaieties  innumerable,  as  they  thought.  The  joy  of 
strong  muscles  well  exercised,  the  freedom  of  primeval 
conditions,  the  exhilaration  of  an  all-encompassing 
virile  nature — combined  to  transform  the  labor  that 
remained  into  a  fascinating  play.  Beyond  every  bend 
of  the  silver  thread  down  which  they  glided  lay  the 
charm  of  discovery.  Now  it  was  a  bear  they  chanced 
upon,  and  found  sport  in  his  droll  surprise  at  their 
sudden  appearance.  With  meat  in  plenty,  they  were 
content  to  frighten  the  lumbering  creature  with 
strange  shouts  and  improvised  cries  of  unearthly 
sorts.  Again,  in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness,  they  hap- 
pened upon  some  wayfaring  pioneer,  stopped  by  the 
very  river  that  was  a  friend  to  them;  and  they  enjoyed 
the  novelty  of  his  unexpected  society,  while  lingering 
to  give  him  such  aid  as  he  stood  in  need  of. 

On  another  day  they  met  an  Indian  and  his  squaw 
in  their  canoe,  and  the  two  bearing  signs  of  having 
recently  traded  in  town,  were  stopped  and  questioned. 
When  the  white  voyagers  told  what  they  had  heard 
of  the  cholera  the  Pottawattamie  grunted  a  corrobora- 
tion.  Mimicking  the  tolling-bell  of  Ste.  Anne's  with 
a  realism  that  was  startling,  he  added:  "Dong-ng — 
dong-ng — dong-ng — dong-ng,  all  day;  no  stop!" 

Passing  through  the  village  of  Pontiac,  they  stopped 
just  below  to  pick  up  the  skins — trophies  of  Perry's 
wolf  hunt  on  his  way  out.  As  Perry  and  his  com- 
panions approached  along  the  miserable  road  that 
led  up  from  Detroit,  they  were  halted  by  an  armed 


The  Wolverine  271 

sentinel,  who  refused  to  allow  them  to  enter  the  vil- 
lage. 

"What's  the  matter?"  demanded  Perry.  "We're  not 
robbers  or  cut-throats." 

The  sentinel  laughed  cunningly.  "I  guess  y'u 
know  what's  the  matter  all  right  'nough.  Y'u  hain't 
come  along  that  'ere  road  all  the  way  from  Detroit, 
'thout  findin'  what's  the  matter  before  this.  Y'u  kin 
go  'round  the  town,  an'  keep  on  yer  way.  But  y'u 
can't  stop;  an'  y'u  can't  go  through  it,  nuther!" 

"We're  not  from  Detroit "  began  Perry. 

"I  hain't  b'en  any  nigher  Detroit  than  I  be  now, 
in  six  months,"  interjected  his  companion,  and  as 
this  was  stronger  than  Perry  could  put  it  himself, 
he  allowed  the  statement  to  go  unqualified. 

"We're  from  the  Grand  River  Valley,  on  our  way 
to  Detroit,"  Perry  explained. 

"Well,  then  jest  turn  'bout  and  pick  up  yer  tracks," 
said  the  sentinel.  "I  should  say  the  same  to  a  man  if 
I  seen  him  comin'  out'n  a  well,  an'  he  should  tell  me 
'at  he  was  from  the  moon  an'  on  his  way  to  Chiny. 
Y'u  can't  pull  no  fur  over  this  'ere  coon's  eyes," 
declared  the  fellow,  with  a  fine  appreciation  of  his 
own  shrewdness. 

"See  here,"  cried  Perry,  becoming  impatient;  "all 
I  want  is  to  go  to  yonder  house  on  the  hill,  and  get 
some  wolf  skins  that  belong  to  me.  Then  I'll  come 
away,  and  you'll  not  be  bothered  with  us  any  longer." 

"It  sounds  reasonable;  but  appearances  are  all  ag'in 
y'u.  A  feller  said  somethin'  like  that  'ere  yest'day. 
But  he  stayed,  and  now  we  got  a  case  o'  cholera  in  a 
lean-to  down  here  a  piece.  No  sir;  y'u  can't  come 


272  The  Wolverine 

into  this  'ere  town  for  no  skins.  Howsomever,  Mr. 
Skilling,  what  lives  in  that  'ere  house,  as  y'u  know  if 
yer  tellm'  me  the  truth,  '"11  be  down  here  after  a  spell, 
an'  I'll  speak  to  him  about  them  'ere  skins  of  your'n. 
Y'u  kin  jest  make  yourselves  com'table  on  yender 
log,  if  y'u  care  to  wait,  so  long's  the  wind's  not  blowin' 
anything  ketching  this  'ere  way." 

"How  long  will  we  have  to  wait?"  inquired  Perry. 

"Well,  'bout  as  long's  it  takes  a  man  to  eat  a  snack, 
and  make  tracks  from  the  house  to  this  'ere  place. 
Then  I'll  go  and  eat  somethin',  an'  if  there's  any  skins 
there  for  y'u,  I'll  bring  'em  back.  I  guess  y'u  kin 
wait  that  'ere  long,  if  y'u  want  'em  bad." 

Perry  concluded  so,  too,  and  he  and  his  companion 
retreated  to  the  log,  where  they  made  themselves 
com'table  as  directed.  When  at  last  the  skins  were 
brought  from  the  house,  the  two  in  waiting  were 
made  to  retreat  still  farther  along  the  road,  while  the 
bundle  was  brought  and  deposited  near  the  log.  After 
the  bearer  had  returned  a  safe  distance,  Perry  was 
allowed  to  advance  and  get  his  property.  Then  the 
two  groups  bade  each  other  a  rather  ironical  good 
afternoon. 

The  next  day,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Clinton  River, 
Perry  was  hailed  from  the  low  bank  by  a  voice,  which 
he  recognized  as  belonging  to  his  friend  and  tailor, 
MV.  Steinmann. 

"Yo-ho!  Mischter  Nort';  Mischter  Nort'!  Vhere 
avay  for  you  boundt?  Nod  to  dot  Teetroit — no,  for 
sure?" 

"Steinmann!"  cried  Perry,  scarcely  believing  his 
senses.  "What  are  you  doing  here?" 


The  Wolverine  273 

"Py  kosh,  I'm  geeping  away  from  dot  zickness! 
You  not  heard  of  dot  zickness,  alreaty?  Dot  gollery! 
Eferypody  in  dot  town  ece  dead,  alreaty.  You  gome 
/  ashore  mit  my  family,  unt  ve  dake  gare  mit  ourselves. 
Eef  anypody  from  dot  town  gome,  ve  schoot  um  so 
gwvick  as  dot!"  He  pointed  his  gun  at  an  imaginary 
intruder,  dropped  it,  and  struck  his  palms  together 
with  a  loud  report. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  Fll  give  you  the  cholera,  Mr. 
Steinmann?  They  wouldn't  let  me  come  into  their 
towns  back  here." 

"Ah,  yah!  dot  ece  so.  Nein,  nein!  I  nod  'fraid 
mit  you.  You  nod  been  by  dot  town,  Teetroit,  zince 
dot  gollery  gome.  Ah,  yah!  Dot  de  vay  dey  do  by 
me  by  dot  town  of  Yipsilanti.  I  go  dot  vay  first  to 
find  a  blace  for  my  family.  Py  kosh!  vun  man  mit  a 
gun  say,  'Schtop!  schtop!'  But  dot  stage-coach  man 
mit  vun  eye — vot  his  name? — Paron  le  Porgne — he 
schtop  not  a  leettle  bit.  An'  de  man  he  schoot  py 
kosh  vun  dose  coach  horses  dead,  already!  Out  on 
dot  Chicago  road  dey  build  fences  agross  de  vay, 
unt  purn  down  deir  pridges,  dot  nopody  from  Teetroit 
can  gome  by  deir  homes.  Ach!  mein  Gott,  eet  ece 
derrible,  derrible!"  concluded  the  German,  with  em- 
phatic shakings  of  the  head. 

All  of  Perry's  men,  with  the  exception  of  the  Ad- 
ventist,  cast  in  their  lot  with  Steinmann.  The  Miller- 
ite  had  left  a  wife  and  child  behind  when  setting  out, 
and  was  filled  with  anxiety  for  their  welfare.  Though 
none  had  special  claims  on  Perry,  he  was  scarcely 
less  anxious  to  reach  the  doomed  town;  and  so  the 
two  pushed  on  with  all  speed, — down  the  lake  close 


274  The  Wolverine 

to  the  right  shore,  following  the  course  pursued  by  the 
ill-fated  Many  Talk  but  a  few  short  weeks  before, 
past  the  island  where  Marie  had  been  held  a  prisoner 
by  the  three  blacks,  and  where  Perry's  Indian  guide 
had  met  his  fate,  and  so  on  to  their  journey's  end. 

The  sun,  low  and  lowering  over  the  town,  was  full 
in  their  eyes  when  they  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
plague-infected  spot.  It  seemed  to  them  as  if  the 
Capitol  were  being  devoured  by  flames,  such  a  lurid 
picture  was  presented — or  was  it  the  Angel  of  Death 
hovering  over  the  place  with  a  flaming  sword?  The 
atmosphere  was  sultry  and  oppressive,  as  it  had  been 
for  many  days. 

Though  showers  of  rain  had  been  frequent,  they 
had  failed  to  bring  relief  from  the  unnatural  condi- 
tions that  prevailed;  instead,  the  increased  humidity 
had  made  the  heat  well-nigh  unbearable.  Scarcely  a 
breath  of  air  seemed  stirring,  and  no  sail  was  to  be 
seen,  going  or  coming  on  the  Straits.  The  naked 
spars  and  masts  of  a  few  deserted  schooners  moored 
at  the  docks,  cut  purple  lines  across  the  copper-colorecl 
sky.  Not  a  sound  came  over  the  lifeless  waters  to 
greet  the  two  voyagers,  as  they  approached  their 
destination.  Even  the  tolling  bell  which  the  Potta- 
wattamie  had  mimicked  with  such  startling  reality, 
had  been  ordered  discontinued  by  the  authorities,  for 
its  awful,  solemn  notes,  recurring  hourly,  day  and 
night,  were  more  than  could  be  borne  by  the  inhabi- 
tants, already  stricken  with  a  mortal  fear. 

It  was  impossible  to  escape  the  depressing  effects 
of  the  scenes  that  greeted  his  eyes  when  once  his  feet 
bore  him  along  the  desolate  streets,  but  Perry  sum- 


The  Wolverine  275 

moned  all  his  forces  to  fight  against  the  grim  terror, 
knowing  that  in  this  alone  lay  his  salvation.  Here 
and  there  were  horseless  carts,  abandoned  by  their 
owners,  many  of  whom  now  lay  in  hastily  made 
graves.  All  signs  of  business  had  long  since  disap- 
peared from  the  shops  and  markets;  misery  and 
wretchedness  seemed  stamped  on  every  line  that  went 
to  make  up  the  devoted  town.  Now  and  then  a  wail 
of  despair  came  through  some  open  door  or  window, 
and  smote  on  the  ears  of  the  new  arrivals  like  the  cry 
of  a  lost  soul.  At  the  street  corners  great  kettles  of 
pitch  were  burning,  the  fumes  of  which  were  believed 
to  purify  the  atmosphere  by  driving  out  the  miasm 
that  caused  the  deadly  contagion.  Deep,  red  flames 
were  given  forth,  with  columns  of  inky  smoke  which 
rose  and  spread  like  a  pall  over  the  stricken  com- 
munity. 

Young  Doctor  Houghton  was  the  first  person 
whom  Perry  met. 

"My  God!  do  you  know  what  you  have  come  to?" 
asked  the  sturdy  little  man  as  he  wiped  his  pale,  care- 
worn brow. 

"I  hope  I  have  come  to  help,"  answered  Perry,  with 
great  feeling.  "Who  are  sick,  and  who  have  died?" 
he  questioned — yet  dreaded  to  hear  the  answer. 

An  expression  of  hope  came  into  the  tired  face  of 
the  over-worked  physician  as  he  gazed  into  the  fresh, 
strong  countenance  before  him.  In  a  few  graphic 
words  he  told  the-  story  of  the  last  six  weeks — how  the 
soldiers  returning  from  the  Black  Hawk  war  had 
brought  the  cholera  with  them.  A  dozen  of  the  promi- 
nent dead  were  named  in  quick  succession;  and  his 


276  The  Wolverine 

listener  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when  none  of  his  par- 
ticular friends  were  enumerated,  though  he  had 
known  and  associated  with  all  who  were  mentioned. 
There  were  strong,  manly  fellows  from  the  Bradies, 
merchants  and  mechanics  of  the  town,  matrons  and 
belles  whom  he  had  met  at  gay  social  festivities — all 
had  been  forever  removed,  as  he  was  told,  but  could 
hardly  realize  in  that  brief  moment. 

"Mrs.  Holland?"  Perry  questioned. 

"She  is  doing  baking,  and  feeding  the  nurses  and 
others  immediately  employed  about  the  sick.  Caring 
for  the  orphaned,  too — a  splendid  woman,  North,  and 
nobly  doing  her  duty.  We  have  turned  the  court  and 
jury  rooms  at  the  Capitol  into  hospitals  and  are  caring 
for  the  sick  there.  The  old  Presbyterian  Church  has 
been  converted  into  a  hospital  also,  under  the  care  of 
the  Sisters  of  Ste.  Claire/' 

"Miss  Webber?" 

"Has  that  happened,  too,  since  you  went  away?  She 
is  married  and  gone!  Campbell  was  first  called  to 
Halifax,  suddenly,  I  believe;  and  they  are  now  on 
their  way  to  England." 

At  a  less  trying  time  these  words  would  have 
elicited  their  full  meed  of  surprise.  But  now  they 
passed  with  only  a  moment's  narrowing  of  the  eye- 
lids. 

"The  Beaucoeurs?"  next  questioned  Perry. 

"They  left  the  city  as  soon  as  the  scourge  broke 
out,  and  are  with  relatives  up  the  St.  Clair — all  but 
Marie.  Marie  is  caring  for  the  suffering  at  the  Catho- 
lic Hospital;  one  of  God's  good  angels!  as  sure  as 
there  is  a  sky  above  us." 


The  Wolverine  277 

"What  can  I  do  to  help?" 

"Come  with  me  to  the  Capitol,  and  I'll  set  you  to 
work,"  returned  the  physician,  leading  the  way  at 
once. 

From  that  moment  North  was  introduced  to  such 
scenes  as  he  had  never  witnessed  before,  nor  has  he 
seen  their  like  since.  All  night  he  watched  over 
delirious,  plague-stricken  patients;  saw  them  writhe 
in  awful  spasms;  administered  the  small  comforts 
which  an  imperfect  science  afforded;  beheld  the  ap- 
proach of  fatal  weakness  and  final  collapse  after  most 
terrible  suffering.  At  the  early  dawn  French  carts 
were  marshalled  to  carry  away  the  dead  of  the  night 
before,  sixteen  in  all;  and  an  unbroken  column  was 
formed  stretching  away  to  the  old  cemetery,  a  fearful 
line  of  festering  corpses.  One-half  of  the  inhabitants 
had  fled  during  that  first  week  of  the  cholera;  and 
three  hundred  newly  made  graves  marked  the  resting- 
places  of  an  appalling  per  cent  of  those  who  remained. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

ANOTHER  stifling  day  followed,  and  it  was 
noon  before  Perry  was  relieved  and  could  take 
a  few  minutes'  rest.  He  hurried  to  his  rooms 
at  Mrs.  Rolland's  that  he  might  be  as  far  from  the 
horrible  scene  of  suffering  as  possible.  He  had  prom- 
ised to  return  at  dark  and  resume  his  duties. 

Perry  found  Mrs.  Rolland  feeding  a  tableful  of 
children  made  orphans  by  the  terrible  scourge. 

"Aye,  Meester  North!  They  telt  me  ye  war  coome 
back.  I  dinna  think  it  would  be  lang  afore  I  see  ye. 
The  bairns  will  make  room  for  ye;  and  I  hae  enough 
for  a'.  Ah!  is  it  nae  a  waeful  sight — a  waeful  veesa- 
tation  of  Providence?  How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long? 
But  ye  maun  sit  a  bit  for  a  bite,  an'  then  awa'  to  yer 
room.  I  hae  redd  it  oop  against  yer  coming.  Ye 
hae  heard  I  hae  lost  my  Elva?"  she  questioned  sud- 
denly, and  for  a  time  they  talked  of  her  and  the  change 
that  had  come  into  her  life. 

The  sight  of  the  children  did  Perry  good.  They 
were  too  young  to  realize  their  loss,  and  here  under 
Mrs.  Rolland  were  well  cared  for.  Perry  found  their 
conversation  most  startling  at  times,  as  they  chanced 


The  Wolverine  279 

to  speak  of  details  connected  with  their  loss;  for  refer- 
ence was  always  made  in  the  plainest,  baldest  terms; 
and  frequently  they  ran  to  the  windows,  interested  in 
sights  which  their  elders  turned  from  with  awe  and 
shudders. 

For  three  days  the  whole  of  Perry's  time  was 
divided  between  this  house,  where  he  snatched  a  few 
hours'  rest,  and  the  Capitol  where,  imder  the  super- 
vision of  Doctor  Houghton,  he  administered  to  the 
sick.  The  one  passion  of  his  life  caused  him  often  to 
think  of  Marie  Beaucceur,  and  wonder  how  she  was 
enduring  the  strain  which  these  trying  days  put  upon 
all.  At  last  the  desire  for  positive  information  became 
so  strong  that  he  turned  his  steps  toward  the  old 
Presbyterian  Church,  instead  of  going  to  his  rooms 
for  the  rest  which  he  was  supposed  to  seek  while  off 
duty. 

He  had  not  been  in  the  edifice  since  those  first  days 
under  the  Reverend  Montieth.  The  exterior  remained 
the  same,  but  changes  had  been  made  within  to  fit  it 
for  its  new  use.  A  few  Sisters  in  the  quaint  garb  of 
the  order  of  Ste.  Claire  moved  hither  and  thither, 
assisted  by  daughters  of  some  of  the  leading  French 
families.  Otherwise,  the  scene  was  like  the  one  from 
which  he  had  just  come. 

To  his  surprise  and  alarm,  none  had  seen  or  heard 
aught  of  Marie  for  thirty-six  hours.  All  that  he  could 
learn  was  that  she  had  left  at  an  appointed  time  to  go 
to  her  home  for  rest.  The  hour  for  her  return  had 
passed  twice  without  her  re-appearance ;  and  so  pressed 
were  all  with  immediate  duties,  none  could  be  spared 
to  look  her  up.  This  was  a  task  Perry  undertook 


280  The  Wolverine 

without  a  moment's  hesitation,  urged  on  by  many 
forebodings. 

The  way  led  him  by  the  humble  home  of  Father 
Richard,  and  acting  on  an  impulse,  he  turned  his  steps 
toward  the  Priest's  door.  He  had  not  seen  this  friend 
since  returning  to  the  city,  though  he  had  heard  mar- 
vellous accounts  of  the  faithful  man  of  God  working 
unceasingly  for  the  relief  of  the  cholera-stricken  suf- 
ferers. No  one  answered  Perry's  summons  with  the 
knocker,  and  trying  the  door,  he  found  it  unfastened, 
and  entered.  The  place  was  not  strange  to  him,  so 
he  readily  made  his  way  to  an  inner  room,  where  he 
discovered  the  Priest,  smitten  with  the  dread  disease, 
and  there,  caring  for  him,  was  Marie ! 

"Ah,  my  son,  thou  hast  come  at  last!"  cried  Father 
Richard,  in  French,  as  he  beheld  Perry  standing  over 
him.  "I  have  longed  to  see  thee  once  more.  I  have 
fought  against  this  malady,  but  it  has  claimed  me  at 
last.  It  is  hard  to  be  helpless  when  so  many  need  my 
services.  Dost  thou  bring  news,  my  son?  How  are 
the  sick?" 

"It  is  reported,  Father,  that  the  scourge  is  abating. 
The  dead  numbered  but  ten  this  morning;  and  Doctor 
Houghton  told  me  there  were  fewer  new  cases  than 
since  the  first  week  of  the  epidemic.  I  did  not  know 
thou  wert  ill,  or  I  should  have  come  sooner.  I  shall 
remain  now  till  thou  art  recovered,"  said  Perry,  with 
hope  that  was  contagious. 

"Thou  hast  been  doing  thy  duty  elsewhere,  my 
son?"  questioned  the  Priest,  with  the  confidence  of  an 
affirmative  answer. 


The  Wolverine  281 

"At  the  Capitol,  Father.  But  they  do  not  need  my 
services,  now  that  the  cases  are  fewer." 

"Kneel  and  receive  my  blessing,"  the  Priest  com- 
manded, and  Perry  knelt  by  the  side  of  his  couch, 
while  the  emaciated  hands  were  feebly  extended  and 
placed  upon  his  head. 

When  Perry  rose,  he  turned  to  Marie.  "You  are 
worn  out  with  watching,"  he  said.  "I  will  take  your 
place  here.  Go  and  get  some  rest."  As  he  spoke, 
he  moved  toward  her,  and  they  clasped  each  other's 
hand  a  moment.  There  was  not  the  freedom  from 
self-consciousness  that  marked  Perry's  meeting  with 
others;  nevertheless,  their  greeting  promised  that 
further  intercourse  would  be  free  from  constraint. 

Save  the  pallor  in  Marie's  face,  she  was  looking  as 
well  as  Perry  had  ever  seen  her.  The  red  lips  and 
dark  hair  and  eyes  were  accentuated  by  the  lack  of 
color  in  her  countenance,  while  a  certain  poise  gave 
promise  of  character  rarely  found  in  company  with  so 
much  beauty  and  loveliness.  "I  am  glad  you  have 
come,"  was  all  Marie  said;  and  then  she  followed 
Perry's  bidding,  and  sought  rest. 

During  the  day  Perry  had  calls  from  the  Doctor 
and  the  acolyte  who  assisted  the  good  Priest  in  his 
offices,  but  who,  in  the  illness  of  his  superior,  was 
kept  busy  elsewhere.  From  these  Perry  again  heard 
the  story  of  Father  Richard's  work.  In  the  midst  of 
the  awful  epidemic  he  had  continued  his  labors  day 
and  night,  administering  the  sweet  consolation  of  his 
religion  to  the  members  of  his  flock.  Afflicted  him- 
self with  every  symptom  of  the  dread  disease  for 
many  weeks,  and  most  of  the  time  greatly  debilitated, 


282  The  Wolverine 

he  had  not  ceased  to  discharge  the  duties  of  his  sacred 
office  with  his  accustomed  zeal,  till  completely  over- 
powered. 

Perry  had  become  acquainted  with  the  progress  of 
the  disease,  so  it  was  no  surprise — but  none  the  less  a 
great  shock — when  the  physician  told  him  the  Priest 
could  not  recover. 

It  was  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night  that  Marie 
returned  to  the  sick  chamber  to  resume  her  duties. 
Perry,  believing  the  end  not  far  off,  would  not  leave 
her  alone,  though  he  had  not  slept  for  twenty-four 
hours,  nor  tasted  food  for  half  that  time.  The  good 
Priest  knew  he  could  not  live.  He  had  received  the 
last  solemn  rites  of  his  church,  so  far  as  his  assistant 
could  administer  them,  and  despatched  the  acolyte  to 
others  who  had  not  the  power  of  self-consolation  that 
he  possessed.  To  the  end  he  was  mindful  of  his 
parishioners  whom,  for  a  third  of  a  century,  he  had 
baptized,  married,  and  absolved;  these  must  miss  him 
sorely  in  their  last  hours. 

Silently  the  tears  came  to  Marie's  eyes  as  she  knelt 
at  the  feet  of  her  dying  confessor.  With  her,  as  with 
Perry,  in  no  case  had  the  fell  destroyer  struck  so 
close  home  as  now.  Two  short  years  ago  Perry  had 
distrusted  this  man  above  all  others.  What  a  radical 
change  had  come  over  his  feelings!  As  for  Marie, 
through  her  whole  life  the  stricken  man  had  filled  a 
place  in  some  respects  exceeding  that  of  a  natural 
parent. 

"Where  art  thou,  my  children?"  called  the  Priest 
in  quavering  voice.  For  though  a  single  wax  taper 
burned  in  the  room,  death  had  already  so  dimmed  his 


The  Wolverine  283 

eyes  that  he  could  not  see.  "Come  close  that  I  may 
bless  thee  both  once  more,"  he  bade.  And  taking  a 
hand  of  each  in  his  own,  he  joined  them,  and  then 
placed  his  trembling  palms  upon  their  bowed  heads. 
The  act  was  something  which  neither  ever  forgot. 
The  words  that  the  Priest  uttered  were  hardly  audible, 
and  none  heard  them  save  the  One  to  whom  they  were 
addressed.  Marie's  sobs,  though  subdued  by  the  in- 
tense nature  from  which  they  sprung,  nevertheless 
made  her  deaf  to  every  sound;  and  Perry  could 
scarcely  be  conscious  of  aught  else. 

Presently  the  hands  of  the  Priest  slipped  from  their 
resting  place,  and  the  two  kneeling  figures  thought 
the  holy  father  was  at  rest.  But  after  a  time  he  revived. 
Perry  administered  some  stimulant,  and  new  hope 
came  to  all. 

"My  son,"  spoke  the  Priest,  with  his  renewed 
strength,  "I  have  loved  thee  in  a  peculiar  manner. 
Thou  hast  an  insight  into  things  that  I  have  found 
in  few.  But  thou  shouldst  have  the  aid  of  Mother 
Church  to  keep  thee  true  to  the  faith.  I  had  hoped 
to  lead  thee  to  that  safe  anchorage  ere  I  died.  Ah! 
could  I  but  receive  the  last  rites  of  our  Holy  Church 
from  thy  hand!  But  I  leave  it  all  with  the  good  God. 
He  will  not  let  my  work  be  in  vain.  I  trust  in  Him. 
I  believe  in  thee — the  goodness  of  thy  heart.  My 
daughter — thy  sister — comfort  her." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time,  save  the  sobbing  of 
those  soon  to  be  bereft.  The  Priest's  hands  once 
more  found  their  way  to  the  young  man's  head,  where 
they  crossed  themselves.  "Ah — that  with  these  hands 
— I  could  install  thee — with  holy  orders !"  A  moment 


284  The  Wolverine 

later  a  smile  broke  over  his  face,  as  if  the  heart's  wish 
had  been  granted.  Feeble,  but  exultant,  his  voice 
gave  forth  its  last  words :  "  'Now,  O  Lord,  dost  Thou 
dismiss  Thy  servant  according  to  Thy  Word,  in 
peace/  " 

So  died  Father  Gabriel  Richard,  missionary  and 
Priest  of  the  Catholic  Church,  friend  and  counsellor 
of  his  Protestant  neighbors — trusted,  admired,  and 
beloved  of  all. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

NEWS  of  the  death  of  the  faithful  old  Priest 
spread  through  the  city  with  the  sense  and 
rapidity  of  pain  along  a  lacerated  nerve. 
Consternation  and  sorrow  followed  in  its  wake  every- 
where. Distracted  before,  now  might  his  people 
despair.  But  more  than  they  were  to  suffer;  his  tak- 
ing off  was  a  public  calamity;  his  place  could  not  be 
filled.  Though  his  immortal  spirit  had  ascended  to 
the  God  who  gave  it,  the  influence  of  his  wise  coun- 
sels, his  loving  devotion  and  Christian  example,  re- 
mained to  persuade  his  survivors  into  nobler  living, 
the  effect  of  which  promises  to  endure  through  all 
ages. 

The  day  of  the  funeral  came.  His  remains,  dressed 
in  the  robes  of  his  sacred  order,  lay  in  state  in  the 
church  which  he  had  built,  his  head  toward  the  altar, 
and  the  face  exposed  to  the  view  of  his  sorrowing  con- 
gregation. From  early  morning  till  dark  of  night  a 
multitude  came  from  all  quarters,  despite  the  terror 
of  the  dread  disease;  and  the  sanctuary  was  filled 
with  the  homage  of  a  vast  concourse,  who  reverently 
took  their  last  look  upon  the  face  of  their  friend  and 


286  The  Wolverine 

Father.  By  chance  there  was  in  the  city  another 
Priest  on  that  day,  come  to  procure  prayer  and  hymn 
books  which  he  had  had  printed  in  the  Ottawa  tongue 
— Father  Baraga,  a  name  scarcely  second  to  Father 
Richard's  in  the  annals  of  the  Wolverine  State;  and 
he  fittingly  led  in  those  last  sad  rites. 

Beneath  the  very  spot  where  the  bier  stood  sur- 
rounded by  the  funeral  candles,  in  time  the  sacred 
dust  found  its  last  resting  place.  There,  to  this  day, 
the  curious  and  the  reverent  may  be  directed,  and 
there  they  may  hear  again  from  the  lips  of  an  acolyte 
in  voice  correctly  hushed,  as  befits  his  honored  sub- 
ject, the  story,  in  brief,  of  the  life  and  labors  of  that 
holy  man  of  God. 

Among  all  those  gathered  to  do  him  reverence, 
the  two  who  had  passed  the  last  hours  at  his  bedside 
were  not  to  be  found.  A  strange  thing  had  happened. 
In  that  lone  chamber,  while  the  shock  of  death  was 
still  on  Perry  and  Marie,  the  door  had  opened  behind 
them,  and  a  lad,  exhausted  and  out  of  breath,  tottered 
into  the  room.  The  haunted  look  of  a  mortal  terror 
was  on  his  face,  but  this  quickly  gave  place  to  a  mo- 
mentary glad  light,  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  bowed  figure 
of  mademoiselle. 

"Ah,  Marie,  ma  sceur,  cherie!"  escaped  from  his 
lips,  as  Francois  fell  unconscious  by  the  side  of  his 
sister,  whom  he  had  sought  long  and  wearily. 

With  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  pain,  Marie 
sprang  from  the  dead  to  care  for  the  living. 

"Francois,  cheri!  what  does  this  mean?"  she  mur- 
mured, bending  over  her  brother.  "Ah,  Mere  de  Dieu! 


The  Wolverine  287 

he  has  the  malady!"  she  cried,  her  soul  wrung  with 
new  anguish. 

"Take  me  home,  ma  sceur,"  pleaded  the  boy,  pite- 
ously,  as  he  revived.  "Take  me  to  the  dear  old  homel 
I  have  come  far  to  see  it — and  thee.  Ah,  I  am  so 
sick!  But  take  me  home,  ma  chere  soeur.  Take  me 
to  the  home!" 

"I  will  carry  him,"  said  Perry,  coming  to  Marie's 
side.  "We  are  not  needed  here  longer.  We  can  stop 
on  our  way  and  tell  Rena  Poulier.  Others  will  come 
quickly  to  take  our  place.  Come,  let  us  go." 

Perry  took  the  lad  in  his  strong  arms,  soothing  him 
with  gentle  assurances  as  they  moved  along.  Marie 
followed,  carrying  such  medicines  as  Perry  directed 
her  to  bring  from  those  the  Doctor  had  left  for  Father 
Richard.  They  covered  the  silent  form  with  a  sheet 
before  slipping  out  into  the  steel-blue  light  of  early 
morning — a  touching  group  which  the  skeleton  of  a 
waning  moon  looked  down  on  from  its  low  perch 
in  the  eastern  sky.  The  air  was  filled  with  the  resinous 
smell  of  burning  pitch,  lowering  flames  of  which  rose 
feebly  from  a  dozen  street  corners,  where  stood  kettles 
now  long  unreplenished.  This  was  the  quietest  hour 
in  all  the  twenty-four — claimed  by  Death  as  peculiarly 
his  own.  Then  those  who  could  sleep  were  deep  in 
the  slumber  of  exhaustion;  while  watchers  were 
hushed  by  the  solemn  presence  of  that  sombre,  silent, 
awful  visitor,  who,  heedless  of  the  dumb  agony  of 
heart-broken  friends,  stalked  relentlessly  through 
their  midst,  claiming  such  as  pleased  his  cold  fancy. 

The  journey  to  the  Beaucoeur  home  drew  upon 
Perry's  already  over-taxed  strength  to  the  verge  of 


288  The  Wolverine 

endurance.  But  by  sheer  force  of  will  he  fought  off 
exhaustion  till  he  had  reached  their  destination,  and 
had  administered  to  the  lad  such  treatment  as  the 
first  stages  of  the  disease  demanded.  Then,  after  a 
deep  draught  of  milk,  he  sought  rest  on  the  couch  in 
that  upper  room  where  once  he  had  been  held  a  pris- 
oner; content  to  leave  their  new  patient  for  a  time 
in  charge  of  Marie,  knowing  that  later  his  renewed 
strength  would  prove  of  vital  need  in  the  struggle 
which  they  were  entering  upon.  Scarcely  had  he 
stretched  his  weary  limbs  along  the  hard  pallet  than 
consciousness  was  swallowed  up  in  oblivion,  and  six 
hours  of  refreshing  slumber  were  vouchsafed  him 
before  he  was  called  upon  to  act  again. 

It  was  about  mid-day  when  Perry  re-entered  the 
room  where  they  had  laid  Francois.  He  found  the 
boy's  condition  somewhat  improved.  He,  too,  had 
had  some  restful  sleep  after  the  poultices  which  Perry 
had  bound  upon  him;  and  now  he  was  telling  Marie 
what  had  brought  him  back  to  the  distracted  city. 

"Ah,  it  is  an  ugly  place  up  there,"  he  was  saying  in 
his  native  tongue.  "I  could  not  bear  it  longer.  I 
must  die  somewhere.  If  I  remained  there  the  home1 
sickness  would  kill  me.  And  then  I  think  if  I  come 
back  here  maybe  I  shall  not  take  the  cholera.  And 
thou  wast  here,  Marie,  cherie.  Ah,  it  was  so  dreadful 
without  thee !  And  I  had  not  mon  pony !  Thou  hast 
not  told  me  how  Adrien  is.  Do  horses  ever  have  the 
plague?  And  may  I  go  to  the  barn  soon  to  see 
Adrien?" 

"Adrien  is  well,"  replied  Marie,  caressing  him  ten- 
derly. "As  soon  as  thou  art  strong  enough  thou  mayst 


The  Wolverine  289 

go  and  see  him.  Benoit  is  caring  for  the  ponies.  I 
must  not  let  thee  talk  so  much.  Thou  wilt  make  thy- 
self worse.  Ah,  mon  cher  frere,  I  do  wish  thou  hadst 
remained  with  our  father  and  mother.  If  thou  wast 
not  so  ill  I  think  I  should  scold  thee  much  for  run- 
ning away  from  them.  They  will  think  thou  art  lost 
in  the  forest " 

"Ah,  so  I  was,  Marie,"  exclaimed  Franqois.  "It  is 
many  days — I  think  so  many  as  four,"  reflectively.  "It 
is  one  day — yesterday  that  I  came?  Two  days  then  I 
was  lost  in  the  forest !  Ah,  and  there  were  wild  beasts 
• — I  heard  le  loup  garou!"  Then  at  sight  of  Perry 
he  rose  partially  from  his  couch.  "Now  it  all  comes 
back  to  me!"  he  cried,  excitedly,  and  in  English 
added:  "Monsieur  North — it  is  him  zat  have  found 
me  and  brought  me  here;  is  it  not  so?  Firs'  I  think 
it  is  one  dream.  But  no — it  is  true,  is  it  not?" 

"Be  quiet,  mon  frere.  Do  not  excite  thyself.  In- 
deed it  is  true.  Monsieur  brought  thee  here  in  his 
arms  last  night.  It  was  no  dream.  Now  lie  down 
and  go  to  sleep  again,"  his  sister  begged  in  alarm. 

"I  will  watch  by  thee,  Franqois,"  said  Perry,  in 
French,  coming  to  his  side  and  forcing  him  gently 
back  into  the  bed.  "We  will  send  Marie  away  for 
rest,  and  I  will  tell  thee  of  Adrien.  I  have  been  to  the 
stables  not  five  minutes  ago.  Shall  we  do  this?  Shall 
we  send  the  sister  away?"  And  as  Franqois  smiled 
assent,  Perry  made  a  play  of  driving  Marie  from  the 
room. 

"Ah,  monsieur  has  learned  to  spe'k  ze  French  bet- 
ter zan  I  can  spe'k  ze  Anglish,"  said  the  lad,  with 


290  The  Wolverine 

pretty  despair.  "And  it  is  but  one  short  time  monsieur 
has  mak'  ze  effort.  But  with  me  it  is  ver3  long." 

"It  is  your  kindness  that  does  not  find  errors  in  my. 
French,"  replied  Perry,  returning  to  the  chair  from 
which  he  had  just  driven  the  boy's  sister.  "I  tell  thee 
truly,  Frangois,  thou  hast  greatly  improved  in  thy 
English.  And  now  if  thou  wilt  be  obedient  and 
remain  quiet,  thou  wilt  soon  be  well  again.  Let  me 
tell  thee  of  Adrien." 

"Mon  cher  pony,"  murmured  Francois,  and  con- 
tinuing in  French — "I  will  hear  of  him.  And  when 
you  go  to  the  stables  again,  put  your  arms  around  his 
neck  and  tell  him  that  Frangois  loves  him.  If  mon- 
sieur will  do  this,  when  I  am  well  I  will  turn  his  lathe 
all  one  day  for  him — and  ask  no  other  pay." 

"I  will  do  it,  mon  petit  ami,"  said  Perry,  moved  by 
the  lad's  devotion. 

"Adrien  now,"  prompted  Frangois,  lest  the  story  be 
forgotten. 

Then  Perry  told  the  incident,  with  something  sooth- 
ing and  restful  in  the  very  tones  of  his  low,  musical 
voice.  He  entered  into  details  that  brought  back  to 
the  homesick  lad  the  innumerable  objects  about  the 
place,  which  were  so  dear  to  his  heart,  and  which  he 
was  too  ill  to  visit  then.  The  pear  trees  bore  but 
little  fruit  that  year,  and  the  most  of  that  little  was 
badly  spotted  with  some  blight.  However,  Benoit  had 
found  one  pear  that  was  a  marvel  among  its  fellows; 
and  he  had  stowed  it  away  in  his  coat  pocket,  think- 
ing to  give  it  to  his  sweetheart,  Rosette  Bardesene, 
who  worked  in  his  master's  kitchen.  But  while  he 
was  raking  out  the  stables,  Adrien  smelled  the  fruit, 


The  Wolverine  291 

and  discovered  its  location  in  Benoit's  pocket.  Before 
the  busy  groom  knew  what  the  mischievous  pony  was 
about,  the  pear  had  been  removed  from  its  hiding- 
place  and  bitten.  The  story  was  told  in  a  way  to  make 
Adrien  the  hero,  and  Benoit's  disappointment  very 
amusing.  Francois  listened,  with  complete  forgetful- 
ness  of  disease  and  pain. 

"Now,  mon  brave  garden,  is  it  not  time  for  some 
breakfast?"  questioned  Perry,  when  he  had  finished 
the  recital.  "Wilt  thou  eat  with  me?  Rosette  has 
made  a  gruel  for  us,  and  I  will  order  it  served  here  at 
once."  And  so  he  led  the  lad  from  his  fears,  and 
imparted  to  his  weakened  body  the  strength  needed 
to  combat  disease. 

For  two  days  Francois  continued  to  improve,  and 
there  was  every  reason  to  believe  he  would  speedily 
recover.  But  on  the  third  day  a  most  deplorable 
circumstance  intervened.  Benoit  Leposeur  begged  to 
see  his  little  friend,  and  was  permitted  to  come  into 
the  sick-room  for  a  time.  Benoit  had  had  the  cholera 
once,  and  believed  himself  immune  from  a  second 
attack.  In  the  course  of  his  stay,  he  sat  on  the  head 
of  Francois's  cot,  and  the  lad  twitted  him  of  stupidity 
in  letting  Adrien  get  the  pear  from  his  pocket. 
Benoit  marvelled  that  his  little  friend  knew  of  the 
matter;  he  had  not  been  aware  of  Perry's  presence  in 
the  stables  when  he  cursed  Adrien,  and  declared  the 
use  he  proposed  to  make  of  the  pear.  His  eyes  grew 
large,  his  face  long,  while  he  shook  his  head,  mur- 
muring darkly  of  witchcraft,  le  diable,  and  other  un- 
canny things.  It  pleased  the  lad  to  puzzle  one  older 
than  himself,  and  he  prolonged  the  visit  to  the  limits 
of  his  sister's  indulgence. 


292  The  Wolverine 

Francois's  senses,  scarcely  less  acute  than  his 
pony's,  discovered  that  another  pear  reposed  in  the 
groom's  pocket,  presumably  for  no  less  a  purpose 
than  the  first.  To  play  a  second  trick  on  the  thick- 
witted  fellow  became  the  boy's  delight;  and  removing 
the  pear  from  its  lodging  place,  Frangois  hid  it  under 
his  pillow,  intending  to  tease  his  victim  after  a  mo- 
ment. Benoit,  however,  was  called  from  the  room 
before  the  lad  saw  fit  to  complete  his  joke. 

Alone,  Frangois  drew  the  ripe,  yellow  beauty  from 
under  his  pillow,  and  feasted  his  eyes  on  its  marvel- 
lous size  and  perfect  shape.  Then  he  put  the  pear  to 
his  nose  and  inhaled  its  delicious  fragrance.  He  had 
eaten  many  green  pears  at  his  uncle's,  earlier  in  the 
season,  but  none  so  perfectly  ripened  as  this.  Since 
his  improvement  he  had  begged  for  just  one  of  the 
beauties  which  he  knew  were  going  to  waste  on  the 
ground  outside;  but  his  nurses  had  been  rigid  in  main- 
taining a  safe  diet,  and  thus  far  had  denied  him  every- 
thing save  gruel  and  broth. 

Frangois  argued  the  question  with  himself;  he  knew 
he  was  well  enough  to  eat  what  he  liked;  and  alto- 
gether the  temptation  proved  greater  than  he  could 
bear.  The  forbidden  fruit  was  eaten  to  the  very  core ; 
never  so  much  as  one  seed  being  left  to  tell  the  fateful 
story.  In  an  hour  the  alarming  symptoms  returned, 
and  from  that  moment  the  little  sufferer  grew  steadily 
worse.  Hot  applications  were  resorted  to  again,  and 
the  most  powerful  remedies  the  Doctor  had  were  ad- 
ministered. But  at  midnight  Frangois  was  suffering 
from  awful  spasms,  and  all  but  Marie  had  despaired 
of  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

TO  the  very  last  his  sister  worked  with  untiring 
devotion.  Between  the  spasms  there  werq 
moments  of  relaxation  when  Franqois  called 
weakly,  piteously  for  relief.  Once  he  seemed  quite 
at  ease,  and  then  he  made  a  strange  request. 

"Marie,  ma  chere  soeur — the  story  of  the  diso- 
bedient children,  tell  it  me,  wilt  thou  not?"  he  begged 
with  short  breath,  feebly  tossing  his  head. 

With  trembling  voice,  Marie  repeated  the  legend, 
a  favorite  with  her  brother. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  Marie,  cherie.  Do  not  cry, 
ma  soeur,"  said  Francois,  when  she  had  finished.  "I 
am  going  there.  I  have  seen  le  Nain  Rouge,  and  I 
am  to  be  imprisoned  in  the  sky.  But  tell  Louis  and 
he  will  come  for  me.  Louis  is  such  a  perfect  shot 
with  the  arrow.  I  do  not  fear.  I  have  thrown  apples 
in  the  air,  and  he  has  pierced  them  every  one." 

"Mon  mignon,  mon  cheri,  do  not  break  my  heart," 
entreated  his  sister.  "See,  I  will  sprinkle  thee  with 
holy  water,  and  le  Nain  Rouge  will  not  dare  come." 

But  the  dying  lad  shook  his  head.  "Pere  Richard 
is  he  not  dead?  I  think  the  holy  water  will  not  be  of 


294  The  Wolverine 

use  now.  No,  no;  le  Nain  Rouge  but  laughs!  I  am 
not  afraid.  Louis  will  find  the  spirit  of  the  aspen- 
tree,  and  he  will  guide  him  to  the  cloud-land.  Louis 
will  never  tire  of  shooting  with  the  arrows  till  he  has 
found  me  and  released  me.  Ah,  there  will  be  much 
lightning  and  many  golden  rents  in  the  sky,  and 
Louis  will  see  through,  and  at  last  find  where  I  am 
kept  a  prisoner.  Then  he  will  shoot  straight,  and  I 
will  escape  through  the  door,  which  he  will  open.  Do 
not  cry,  ma  chere  sceur;  I  do  not  fear." 

In  the  dim  light  of  the  single  candle,  the  lad's 
drawn  features  and  sunken  eyes  were  startling  amid 
the  white  linen  of  his  little  bed.  Restraining  the  sob 
which  burned  in  her  throat,  Marie  escaped  from  her 
brother's  side  one  moment,  and  flew  to  Perry.  She 
had  not  far  to  go,  for  he  stood  just  without  the  room, 
where  he  had  heard  all  that  passed  between  them.  In 
dumb  agony  he  had  suffered  no  less  for  her  than  she 
was  suffering  herself. 

"Mon  Dieu!  I  cannot  let  him  die  unshriven,"  she 
moaned,  wringing  her  hands.  "Ah,  monsieur,  you 
must  find  the  Priest  that  came  from  the  north — Father 
Baraga,  is  it  not  he?  Ah,  mon  mignon,  the  Saints 
help  thee;  Francois,  cheri,  mon  mignon!  Ah,  Mere 
de  Dieu!  the  Priest  will  monsieur  find  him?  Will 
monsieur  do  it  for  his  petit  ami,  mon  cher  frere — oh! 
will  monsieur  do  it?" 

"I  will  do  anything  you  say,  Marie,"  replied  Perry, 
his  strong  voice  giving  way  under  emotion.  "God 
knows  I  wish  it  was  more  I  could  do,"  he  added,  with 
complete  forgetfulness  of  self.  "But  I  will  find  Father 
Baraga — if  he  be  in  town !" 


The  Wolverine  295 

Away  he  hurried  on  his  vain  search  through  the 
night,  driven  as  one  distracted.  Death  was  coming 
again  to  strike  very  near  home.  Life — what  a  mys- 
tery it  was!  A  few  short  years  of  consciousness 
separating  two  eternities  of  nothing.  Father  Richard 
— life,  reason,  love;  was  not,  is,  and  is  not!  And  now 
his  young  friend  was  soon  to  complete  the  same  tran- 
sitions. Lacking  words  to  comfort  the  grief-stricken 
sister,  Perry  groaned  aloud  as  he  chased  through  the 
hushed  streets,  coming  now  suddenly  out  of  fathom- 
less blackness  into  the  weird  light  of  flaming  pitch, 
vanishing  again  to  reappear  presently  with  lurid 
countenance;  knocking  at  a  door  here,  making  inqui- 
ries there;  burdened  with  sorrow,  helpless,  and  well 
nigh  despairing. 

After  a  two  hours'  search  for  the  Priest,  he  learned 
that  Father  Baraga  was  positively  out  of  the  question, 
having  the  night  before  gone  several  miles  down  the 
river  where  duty  called  no  less  than  in  the  city.  Even 
the  acolyte  who  served  with  Father  Richard  could 
not  be  had;  for  cholera  had  claimed  him,  too,  at  last. 
Father  Baraga  might  return  some  time  during  the 
day:  this  was  the  only  hope  Perry  could  carry  back 
to  Marie.  In  the  meantime  the  wan  hours  of  dawn 
had  come,  bringing  the  lad  to  the  last  stages  of  col- 
lapse. 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu!  is  there  not  pity?"  moaned  the 
agonized  sister.  "Monsieur — you — you  are  good!  He 
said  so!  He  would  have  made  you  a  Priest — Pere 
Richard  would!  His  hands  blessed  thee — ah!  I 
can  believe  they  did  make  thee  a  Priest!  There  is  no 
one  else — you  must  be!"  It  was  the  cry  of  despair, 


296  The  Wolverine 

with  a  last  ray  of  hope.  "I  will  tell  you  the  words — 
I  know  them  by  heart.  And  you  must  say  them  after 
me.  I  will  fetch  the  holy  water.  Pere  Richard  blessed 
it — and  his  hands  blessed  monsieur.  I  saw  them  on 
your  head,  and  I  heard  him  say  the  words.  And  he 
did  beg  to  receive  the  last  rites  of  our  Holy  Church 
from  monsieur's  hands — thy  hands,  Pere  North! — 
shall  I  not  say  it?  And  thou  wilt  not  deny  me!  For 
Francois's  sake  thou  wilt  do  this.  Ah,  I  have  Pere 
Richard's  vestments  in  the  house!  He  did  give  them 
to  me  to  mend  the  place  burned  by  a  coal  from  the 
censer.  And  thou  wilt  put  them  on,  and  with  that  and 
the  blessing  from  his  hands,  and  the  goodness  of  thy 
heart,  thou  shalt  indeed  be  a  Priest,  Pere  North." 

Deny  her  was  not  in  Perry's  power; — nor  did  the 
action  seem  mockery  to  him  then.  He  did  not  pause 
to  question  or  analyze  his  motives.  It  was  enough 
that  the  thing  gave  Marie  comfort — that  she  wished 
him  to  do  it;  and  he  never  once  faltered,  but  went 
through  the  part,  putting  his  very  soul  in  every  word 
and  act;  for  somehow  it  gave  him  comfort  also. 
How  many,  many  times  in  their  nightly  discussions 
had  he  listened  to  Father  Richard  intone  these  sol- 
emn, rhythmic,  moving  words!  Prompting  was 
unnecessary,  for  a  lasting  impression  had  been  made 
on  Perry's  mind. 

This  was  not  the  only  time  he  had  lent  himself  to 
Marie's  bidding.  But  how  far  had  he  come!  Had  it 
been  told  the  Puritan  stranger  at  their  meeting  on 
the  river  bank  long  ago,  when  first  he  yielded  to  her 
girlish  whims,  that  the  time  would  come  when  she 
would  command  and  he  in  all  seriousness  enact  the 


The  Wolverine  297 

role  of  a  Romish  Priest,  he  would  have  replied :  "Then 
may  she  order  the  end  of  the  world!"  And  the  fiat 
duly  sent  forth,  he  would  have  expected  directly  to 
witness  the  crack  of  doom. 

While  Perry  was  pursuing  that  ineffectual  quest  for 
Father  Baraga,  Franqois  had  passed  into  a  stupor, 
and  from  this  he  never  aroused.  The  rites  enacted 
now  under  Marie's  dictation  were  performed  over 
the  lad's  unconscious  body.  Nor  did  the  work  of  this 
vicar-priest  end  there.  When  the  little  funeral  cor- 
tege followed  the  remains  to  the  cemetery  on  the  river 
bank,  it  was  accompanied  by  a  figure  in  vestments, 
marvellously  like  Father  Richard.  The  wonder  and 
amazement  of  Benoit  Leposeur,  Rosette  Bardesene, 
and  the  two  or  three  others  with  Marie,  amounted  to 
little  less  than  fear.  None  doubted  it  was  a  super- 
natural appearance.  Perry's  intonations,  strikingly 
like  the  dead  Priest's  own  voice,  coming  from  the 
depths  of  the  sable  cowl,  but  heightened  the  illusion. 
He  had  never  listened  to  the  ceremony  from  other  lips 
than  Father  Richard's.  Was  it  so  very  strange  that 
he  should  repeat  them  now  as  he  had  heard  them? 

If  Marie  had  had  a  single  misgiving  at  first,  it  was 
dissipated  as  the  burial  rites  moved  off  without  fur- 
ther incentive  than  an  appealing  look  from  her.  Long 
over-worked,  this  last  crushing  blow  had  made  her 
mind  keenly  susceptible  to  impressions,  and  she  was 
only  less  deceived  than  those  about  her.  Though 
there  were  scores  in  the  cemetery  who  yearned  for  the 
consolation  of  a  Priest,  none  dared  approach  the  black 
gowned  figure,  come  from  the  grave  as  they  believed, 
to  perform  a  sacred  duty  for  the  family  he  had  long 


The  Wolverine 


loved  and  held  most  intimately.  But  as  the  little 
group  emerged  from  the  sacred  burial  place,  many 
near  whom  they  passed,  knelt,  crossed  themselves,  and 
breathed  a  prayer  to  the  Saints  that  their  eyes  had 
beheld  this  thing,  and  that  they  yet  lived. 

Marvellous  were  the  tales  told  of  that  morning, 
when  tranquillity  was  once  more  come  to  the  town. 
To  these  Benoit  Leposeur  and  his  good  wife,  Rosette, 
added,  in  the  years  that  followed,  their  account  of 
a  miracle  which  the  holy  Father  Richard  later  worked 
before  their  very  eyes.  With  many  realistic  details 
their  listeners  were  told  how  the  good  Priest  had  bade 
Marie  go  up  the  lake  to  her  uncle's,  where  her  father 
and  mother  then  were,  for  the  rest  which  she  so  much 
needed;  how  he  had  commanded  them  to  accompany 
her  also,  and  promised  that  they  should  find  a  brig 
at  Barthelet's  wharf  manned  and  ready  to  sail;  and 
how,  acting  on  his  word,  never  doubting,  they  had 
found  it  all  even  as  he  said.  It  was  a  phantom  affair 
—  the  brig  and  those  who  manned  it;  and  after  land- 
ing them  at  Isadore  Navarre's  place,  disappeared,  no 
doubt  as  Father  Richard  himself  disappeared  —  in  a 
cloud  of  smoke  that  rose  from  the  chimney-pot,  lead- 
ing to  the  room  into  which  they  had  seen  him  enter. 
For  none  had  ever  looked  upon  him  or  that  mysterious 
bark  again. 

There  was  one  who,  the  Leposeurs  declared,  might 
corroborate  their  words,  if  he  would  but  open  his 
mouth.  He  had  been  much  at  the  Beaucceur  place 
during  Francois's  illness,  and  they  had  found  him 
again  at  the  wharf  when  they  had  embarked,  come  to 


The  Wolverine  299 

bid  them  adieu  and  bon  voyage.  It  was  their  belief 
that  he,  too,  had  seen  Father  Richard,  and  that  the 
good  Priest  had  put  a  seal  on  his  lips.  "Zees  mon  ees 
none  other,"  Benoit  is  wont  to  declare,  "zan  ze  Hon- 
orable Perry  Nort' — ze  ver*  one  zat  now  ees " 

But  the  reader  must  wait  for  that,  the  historian  can- 
not spoil  his  narrative  to  make  good  Benoit's. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

DETROIT    was   slow   in   recovering  from  the 
ravages  of  that  fearful  pestilence,  and  the  year 
that    followed    brought    many    changes    to 
Perry. 

During  the  summer  the  serious  illness  of  his  mother 
called  him  back  to  New  England.  It  was  the  first  time 
he  had  been  home  since  leaving  it  for  the  West. 
Prosperity  had  enabled  him  to  surround  the  dear  ones 
with  many  comforts,  and  this  was  the  source  of  great- 
est joy;  but  it  cut  to  his  heart  like  a  jagged  knife 
when  he  remembered  his  infidelity — as  his  mother 
surely  would  have  called  it;  the  secret  which  he  must 
keep  to  himself.  Never  would  his  ears  lose  the  sound 
of  her  quavering  treble  voice  as  it  used  to  mount 
daily  from  their  kneeling  triangle  to  the  Throne  of 
Grace.  It  came  to  him  a  hundred  times  during  that 
last  tedious  journey,  and  after  those  words — "We 
thank  Thee,  Heavenly  Father,  that  we  may  come  to 
Thee  direct,  without  the  intervention  of  Romish 
priests/'  he  experienced  a  terrible  nightmare  in  which 
he  saw  himself  in  gown  and  cowl,  sprinkling  holy 
water,  lifting  high  the  crucifix,  and  repeating  formal 
prayers  for  the  dead! 


The  Wolverine  301 

The  day  following  Perry's  arrival  his  mother  died. 
Again  he  felt  those  unanswerable  questions  revived, 
and  because  of  the  inability  of  the  mind  to  accept  the 
longings  of  the  heart,  the  battle  of  faith  was  re-fought. 
Like  some  shipwrecked  mariner,  running  up  and 
down  a  desolate  promontory,  he  had  strained  his  eyes 
aross  a  dark  and  shoreless  sea.  Should  he  live  a 
thousand  years,  he  must  search  for  something  that 
promised  an  existence  beyond  the  desert  on  which 
he  found  himself,  cast  from  he  knew  not  whence. 

As  at  the  time  when  he  himself  lay  near  death's 
door,  so  now  peace  came  only  when  he  yielded  to  the 
heart  in  utter  defiance  of  the  mind.  Two  bits  of  verse 
which  he  had  clipped  from  recent  periodicals,  were  of 
great  comfort  to  him.  One  began — 

To  him  who  in  the  love  of  Nature,  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms, 

and  the  other — 

Lead,  kindly  light;  lead  thou  me  on. 

These  had  become  his  sole  creed  and  expression  of 
hope. 

Perry's  return  to  Detroit  was  in  time  to  give  him 
part  in  a  conference  between  leaders  of  the  two  parties, 
held  with  a  view  to  calling  a  state  convention  to  accept 
what  Congress  now  offered — the  land  north  of  Lake 
Michigan  in  lieu  of  the  strip  claimed  by  Ohio. 

"Consistency  is  a  jewel — but  jewels  may  become  a 
sign  of  vanity,"  declared  Congressman  Lyon,  as  the 
argument  waxed  warm.  "A  man  is  a  fool  to  bite  off 


302  The  Wolverine 

his  nose  to  prove  his  consistency.  Here  we  may  have 
many  times  the  amount  of  land,  and  get  into  the 
Union  in  season  to  share  in  the  division  of  the  sur- 
plus. Nearly  half  a  million  dollars  will  come  to 
us " 

"And  for  that  you  wish  us  to  sell  ourselves!" 
exclaimed  Woodbridge  angrily. 

"No  such  thing/'  retorted  Lyon.  "I  want  you  to 
take  a  commonsense  view  of  the  matter.  We  can't 
have  the  Toledo  strip  any  way.  Congress  will  never 
give  it  to  us.  By  refusing  to  take  what  we  may  have, 
we  but  remain  out  of  the  Union.  If  you  Whigs  would 
listen  to  reason " 

"We  listened  to  reason  and  right,"  interrupted 
Perry  warmly,  "and  went  to  Toledo  time  and  again, 
with  muskets  on  our  shoulders,  and  you  Democrats 
have  the  glory  of  it.  And  now  you  want  us  to  follow 
you  again  so  you  may  step  into  good,  fat  offices " 

"Perry,  that  speech  is  unworthy  of  you,"  said  Lyon, 
with  injured  dignity.  "Only  the  wound  you  suffered 
there  can  win  my  forgiveness.  I  have  striven  early 
and  late  at  Washington  for  the  best  interests  of 
Michigan;  and  now  my  friends  have  hard  names  for 
me.  Some  even  call  me  a  traitor.  Cannot  you  see, 
gentlemen,  that  it  is  the  part  of  a  wise  man  to  make 
the  best  of  a  situation?"  And  at  once  he  forgot  his 
personal  injuries  in  arguing  for  the  good  of  his  Com- 
monwealth. "I  know  this  region  that  is  offered  us 
seems  barren,  but  I  believe  the  future  will  prove  it 
to  be  worth  many  times  the  little  patch  of  ground 
coveted  by  Ohio.  I  have  been  through  this  northern 
peninsula,  and  know  it  well.  And,  my  friends,  Cass 


The  Wolverine  303 

and  Schoolcraft,  will  bear  me  out  in  what  I  say.  Be- 
sides all  that,  notice  the  magnificent  appearance  it 
gives  us  at  once  on  the  map!  No  State  in  the  Union 
has  such  distinction!" 

The  young  Governor's  watch  snapped  as  he  closed 
it. 

"I  reckon  such  meetings  as  these  can  be  fruitful  of 
nothing  but  duels  on  the  Canada  shore,"  he  spoke  up 
with  great  impatience.  "For  my  part,  I  prefer  to 
dance  attendance  on  the  ladies  to  bandying  words 
here.  Gentlemen,  have  you  forgotten  the  ball  at  the 
American?  Senator,  do  you  attend?  It  is  time  we 
were  there." 

Lyon  would  have  prolonged  the  conference,  but 
the  Whigs  rose  and  filed  out  of  the  room. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  the  ball,  North?"  asked  Had- 
ley,  as  they  tramped  down  the  dark  hallway.  "The 
first  in  a  year — everybody  will  be  there.  A  promenade 
with  some  fair  creature  that  I  wot  of — a  smile  from 
her  cherry  lips  and  a  glance  from  her  black  eyes — 
'twill  sweeten  this  disposition  of  thine  right  merrily/' 

"Of  whom  do  you  speak?"  demanded  Perry,  in- 
clined to  be  angry. 

"Not  of  Miss  Beaucceur,  I  do  assure  you,"  the 
Major  replied  with  mockery.  "I  fancy  the  Governor 
will  monopolize  her  this  evening.  Tis  too  bad  we 
can't  all  be  Governors  and  ride  a-cock-horse !  But 
you  are  going?  The  first  since  the  cholera;  surely 
you'll  not  miss  it!" 

Perry  had  flung  his  invitation  aside  carelessly  when 
received,  but  now  of  a  sudden  he  thought  favorably  of 
attending.  He  had  not  seen  Marie  in  several  weeks. 


3°4  The  Wolverine 

Out  of  sorts  with  others,  he  was  in  a  mood  to  yield 
himself  this  gratification. 

At  the  scene  of  the  festivities,  Hadley  was  the  first 
to  greet  him.  "Ah,  you  took  my  advice,"  he  said. 
The  remark  was  unfortunate,  as  Perry  wished  to  think 
he  was  acting  quite  independent.  "Come  and  have 
some  apple-toddy.  It  never  was  finer.  Yes,  they  are 
at  it — dancing  in  there — Mason  and  Marie  Beaucceur! 
I  overheard  Lyon  ask  for  a  number,  and  mademoiselle 
replied:  'Ah,  nearly  too  late,  Mr.  Senator.  I  have 
only  one  left/  Of  course  I  couldn't  have  any  then. 
But  Fll  swear  Mason  has  his  name  on  her  card  for  a 
dozen.  And  I'll  wager  two  to  one — candles  or  cur- 
rency— that  you  don't  get  a  promenade  with  her." 

It  was  too  bad  that  Perry  could  not  know  the  Major 
had  said  much  the  same  to  a  dozen  others  that  even- 
ing. More  than  half  in  love  with  the  French  beauty 
himself,  it  was  natural  that  Hadley  should  imagine 
all  other  men  in  a  similar  position, — in  which,  after 
all,  he  was  scarcely  at  fault. 

Struggling  not  to  feel  resentment,  Perry  yielded 
to  the  invitation,  and  drank  more  toddy  than  he  was 
aware  of.  He  was  tempted  to  substitute  for  Hadley's 
wager  another — that  he  would  not  ask  mademoiselle 
to  promenade,  when  he  and  the  Major  came  face  to 
face  with  Marie  and  Senator  Lyon  as  they  were  leav- 
ing the  ball  room. 

"Ah,  Mr.  North!  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  ex- 
claimed Marie,  with  more  sincerity  than  usually 
accompanies  words  of  conventionality.  "It  is  rare  that 
one  sees  you  now-a-days.  You  were  down  East  at 
your  home,  I  know,  early  in  the  summer.  I  was  in 


The  Wolverine  305 

hopes  you  would  call  and  tell  me  about  your  trip. 
Do  you  know — I  think  you  neglect  your  friends." 

Marie  had  improved  with  time,  even  where  perfec- 
tion seemed  already  attained.  The  girlish  lines  in 
her  figure  had  become  womanly,  and  her  face  had 
added  to  its  natural  beauty  the  stamp  of  character. 
Sympathy  and  understanding  radiated  from  her  large, 
lustrous  eyes,  and  sweet,  mobile  mouth.  Such  suf- 
fering as  had  come  had  not  rubbed  the  bloom  off,  nor 
taken  aught  from  the  remarkable  richness  of  color 
that  was  hers  by  inheritance.- 

"I  am  sorry  if  I  displease  you,"  answered  Perry, 
stooping  to  pick  up  the  card  which  she  had  dropped, 
bearing  the  record  of  her  dancing  engagements. 
Before  returning  it,  he  saw  that  every  number  was 
filled.  "If  I  danced,  there  would  be  no  opportunity 
for  me  here,"  he  commented,  with  some  disappoint- 
ment. "And  I  came  hoping  for  one  promenade." 

"If  you  knew  how  I  had  set  my  heart  on  a  dance 
with  you,  Miss  Beaucceur,"  said  Hadley,  at  the  same 
time,  "you  would  not  deny  me,  and  give  two  to 
another." 

Before  either  finished,  Marie  began  a  reply  to 
Perry:  "There  is  one  that  is  cancelled.  Doctor 
Houghton,  he  has  been  called  away — Ah,  now  you 
make  me  choose  between  you!"  she  exclaimed,  com- 
prehending the  Major's  words.  "I  cannot  do  that!" 
she  added,  with  polite  perplexity. 

"Indeed,  mademoiselle  cannot,"  interjected  Lyon. 
"You  must  give  the  dance  to  me." 

"No,  no!    The  gentlemen  must  draw  lots,"  declared 


3°6  The  Wolverine 

Marie,  as  with  a  happy  solution.  "Senator,  have  you 
not  two  bits  of  paper?" 

"The  dance  must  come  to  me!"  protested  Hadley. 
"Mr.  North  has  conscientious  scruples  against 
gambling!" 

Marie's  face  became  suddenly  grave.  "Oh!  I  beg 
"  she  began,  and  looked  as  if  an  irreparable  blun- 
der had  been  committed. 

"Mr.  Hadley  will  speak  for  himself!  If  Miss  Beau- 
coeur  will  proceed,  I  will  abide  by  my  fate,"  declared 
Perry,  with  greater  seriousness  than  the  situation 
really  demanded. 

When  the  Senator  had  supplied  the  bits  of  paper, 
Marie  continued:  "I  will  hold  them.  The  one  who 
gets  the  longer  may  fill  Doctor  Houghton's  number 
as  he  likes."  She  turned  her  back,  while  arranging 
the  cuts;  and  to  Perry  was  given  the  choice  when 
she  faced  about.  The  two  ends  seemed  just  alike. 
But  when  Perry  would  have  drawn  one,  it  would  not 
slip  from  Marie's  fingers.  Meeting  her  eyes,  he  read 
something  that  directed  him  to  draw  the  other.  This 
he  did — and  won. 

"Ah,  fate  is  against  you,  Major  Hadley,"  said  Marie, 
sweetly;  and  then  to  Perry:  "There  are  two  numbers 
first,  Mr.  North.  I  shall  leave  you  to  find  me."  And 
she  allowed  Lyon  to  lead  her  away. 

"She  would  not  choose  between  us !"  repeated  Had- 
ley, with  bitter  sarcasm.  "But  she  did,  all  the  same; 
I  saw  her  direct  you  which  to  draw!"  Perry  pro- 
tested, but  the  Major  continued:  "Don't  give  me  any 
such  stuff!  I  saw  it.  And  what  did  she  say  about 
calling?  I  don't  think  I'd  have  to  be  urged.  Egad! 


The  Wolverine  307 

I  believe  she  is  partial  to  you.  I  have  never  forgotten 
how  she  included  you  in  the  play  we  gave  once. 
Heavens!  what  chances  you  have  had  and  thrown 
away.  Wounded  at  Toledo  and  nursed  by  her!  Saved 
her  from  the  niggers,  and  a  thing  worse  than  death! 
During  the  cholera — and  the  devil  knows  how  much 
besides!" 

Indeed,  Perry  felt  something  like  rich  wine  flowing 
through  his  veins,  and  it  was  not  all  due  to  the  toddy 
he  had  drunk.  He  knew  Marie's  suitors  often  com- 
plained that  she  slighted  them.  Not  since  that  fatal 
night  at  the  Justice's  had  she  showed  him  other  than 
the  most  sincere  and  kindly  consideration.  It  is  true 
he  had  not  asked  much  of  her;  indeed,  he  had  rarely 
sought  her  society ;  but  whenever  they  met,  their  inter- 
course had  been  marked  by  something  that  seemed  to 
set  their  friendship  apart  from  others.  There  was 
now  never  any  of  the  pretty  trifling,  as  when  he  first 
knew  her.  Sometimes  he  rather  missed  this.  He 
would  like  to  be  played  with,  if  he  could  know  there 
was  sincerity  back  of  it  all. 

Hadley's  last  words  had  restored  Perry's  self-com- 
placency, lifting  him  as  far  above  his  normal  spirits  as 
before  he  had  been  depressed.  Then  came  the  mo- 
ment when  he  sought  out  Marie  and  claimed  his 
engagement. 

Though  it  was  late  in  the  autumn,  the  night  was  as 
balmy  as  one  in  June.  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they 
followed  the  line  which  marched  up  and  down  the 
broad  board  walk  that  extended  on  two  sides  of  the 
hotel.  Besides  the  soft  light  of  many-colored  lanterns, 
a  waning  moon  had  risen  to  add  its  mellow  influence 


308  The  Wolverine 

to  the  night.  Marie  directed  their  conversation  to 
his  recent  visit  home,  and  spoke  with  tender  sym- 
pathy of  the  death  of  his  mother. 

"Ah,  I  think  of  such  things  often,"  mademoiselle 
declared,  with  low,  rich  accent; — "very  often  since 
dear  little  Francois  died.  And  it  is  not  always  to  be 
sad.  Those  that  have  been  good  here,  the  good  God 
will  make  happy  elsewhere.  Ah,  and  I  love  to  think 
they  may  pass  quickly  from  there  to  here — that  they 
may  be  about  us  any  time,  though  we  see  them  not. 
Is  it  not  a  sweet  thought?  I  have  quite  my  own  ideas. 
Father  Richard  used  to  tell  me  this  was  wrong.  But 
now  I  seem  to  feel  him  about  me  at  times;  and  I  can 
even  see  his  face;  and  instead  of  being  displeased,  he 
even  encourages  me  to  go  on.  Ah,  and  what  Father 
Montieth  said  Sunday  night!  It  explained  what  I 
have  felt:  that  God  has  messages  which  he  sends 
direct  to  each  of  his  children.  Is  it  not  a  sweet  and 
holy  thing?" 

"It  is  indeed!"  was  Perry's  reply,  and  he  felt  con- 
viction then  that  was  rare  with  him.  Her  "Father 
Montieth"  recalled  his  "Mr.  Richard,"  causing  him 
to  reflect  on  the  influence  of  early  teaching.  Evidently 
neither  Marie  nor  he  had  been  content  with  the  doc- 
trines taught  them,  but  must  needs  find  something  to 
fit  their  individual  wants.  "Surely  she  is  freeing  her- 
self from  the  bondage  of  Rome!"  he  thought,  with  a 
return  of  the  old  Puritan  satisfaction. 

The  time  was  up,  yet  she  showed  no  desire  to  return 
to  the  ball-room.  She  was  telling  him  of  the  last  let- 
ter she  had  had  from  Elva,  who,  as  the  Duchess  of 
Cairngyll,  had  recently  entertained  the  Princess  Vic- 


The  Wolverine  309 

toria  at  the  Duke's  Highland  Castle.  Marie  could 
have  no  idea  of  the  flight  of  time,  he  thought;  while 
she,  believing  his  honesty  Quixotic,  expected  every 
moment  to  be  told  of  engagements  that  she  was 
neglecting.  But  Perry  would  have  kept  her  all  the 
evening  if  he  could,  and  this  might  have  happened  had 
not  Mason  caught  sight  of  them  as  they  were  passing 
the  brilliantly  lighted  door. 

"Is  it  possible?''  exclaimed  Marie,  when  told  the 
number  that  was  forming.  "Ah,  I  beg  your  pardon. 
The  time  slips  by  so  quickly  when  two  are  talking  of 
old  friends."  She  withdrew  her  hand  from  Perry's 
arm,  and  slipping  it  within  Mason's,  was  led  away 
where  the  lights  burned  brightly  and  the  air  was 
a-quiver  with  gay  music. 

Perry  shut  his  teeth  hard.  Raised  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  delight,  now  suddenly  his  spirits  were 
plunged  to  the  other  extreme.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  was  seized  with  jealousy  that  would  not  be 
controlled,  and  all  directed  against  the  man  who  had 
robbed  him  of  something  inestimably  precious  as  he 
felt,  despite  all  reasoning.  Then  came  Major  Had- 
ley,  like  Mephistopheles,  and  tempted  him  to  the 
buffet  and  more  toddy  . 

"Six  dances  he  has  had  with  her,"  said  Mephisto; 
"I  have  kept  the  count.  By  gad,  if  we  can't  be  Gov- 
ernor, if  we  can't  dance  with  mademoiselle — I  say, 
Perry,  if  we  can't — by  gad !  we  can  drink  to  her  health. 
An'  here's  a  toddy  for  ever*  dance.  By  gad — six, 
that's  the  count.  We  can  drink  her  health,  by 
gad " 


310  The  Wolverine 

Perry  scarcely  heard  what  the  fellow  said,  for  his 
own  emotions  occupied  his  thoughts.  Men  came  and 
went,  and  there  was  coarse  laughter  and  heavy  drink- 
ing on  every  side. 

"Now  le's  go  back,"  said  Hadley,  at  length,  wiping 
his  lips.  "I  said  I'd  keepsh-count,  an'  by  gad!  I  will. 

Shix's  what  I  said 'Scuse  me!  no  'fense  meant,  by 

gad."  And  he  righted  himself  after  reeling  against  a 
neighbor. 

"'Sey're  at  it  'gain?  By  gad! — seven,  did  I  say? 

— makesh — eight — or  seven Whatsh-say?  Coin' 

'way?  By  gad  'tshame!  Wants-help  to  keepsh-count. 
Gettin'  mixsh  'lone.  'S-eight,  did  say? — 'sen's  'tnine 
— by  gad,  't's  nine!" 

Perry  heard  no  more,  for  he  flung  himself  out  of 
the  building.  He  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Marie  and 
Mason  whirling  about  the  room  together,  and  the 
sight  was  more  than  he  could  endure. 

The  fresh  air  cooled  his  heated  brow.  He  would 
take  a  canoe  and  paddle  on  the  river,  and  so  regain 
his  saner  self.  He  tried  to  argue  against  the  passion 
that  controlled  him  to-night.  The  situation  was  not 
really  different  from  any  time  in  the  last  two  years. 
Why  should  he  feel  as  he  did?  Was  it  the  toddy  he 
had  drunk?  He  knew  he  had  taken  more  than  was 
good  for  him — but  not  so  much  as  Hadley.  Heaven 
keep  him  from  such  a  spectacle! 

He  loosed  his  canoe,  and  paddled  far  out  into  the 
stream.  His  thoughts  came  like  stabs  from  a  jagged 
blade,  making  wounds  which  he  must  suffer  without 
an  anaesthetic,  Elva  was  married  and  gone  abroad. 


The  Wolverine  311 

His  mother  was  dead.     Laura  was  married,  and  in 
her  own  home.     He  had  none.     If  Mason  were  to 

marry  Marie Perry  dropped  his  paddle,  and  took 

his  head  in  his  hands,  swaying  from  side  to  side  of 
the  frail  bark. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

THE  old  yellow  house — half  trading-store,  half 
dwelling — formed  the  background  of  the  next 
scene  in  that  little  drama  to  which  night  birds 
alone  were  spectators.  In  the  foreground  two  great 
pear  trees  stretched  gnarled  and  naked  limbs  toward 
the  pale  moonlight,  and  cut  lines  that  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  the  dark,  steel-blue  sky.  Beneath  the  trees 
two  agitated  figures  confronted  each  other.  One,  a 
woman  in  ball-room  gown,  clasped  her  hands  in  real 
distress;  the  other,  a  dark-haired  man  of  cavalier 
mould,  awaited  an  answer  to  some  passionate  words 
that  had  just  escaped  him — ill-advised,  as  he  knew 
the  moment  they  had  flown. 

"Ah,  monsieur,  the  last  time  you  promised  never 
to  speak  to  me  of  this  again!" 

"Promised?  I  reckon  I  did!  But  I  knew  I  should 
not  keep  it.  Ask  a  promise  of  the  sun  not  to  shine! 
Marie,  I  tell  you  this  is  my  life — my  love  for  you! 
They  tell  me  I  have  won  honor  and  fame — I  have 
heard  it  whispered  that  I  may  rise  to  the  highest  posi- 
tions; and  I  will,  if  it  will  win  me  your  love!  Day  and 
night  I  have  thought  of  you — and  with  every  new 


The  Wolverine  313 

achievement  counted  it  one  more  ally  to  win  your 
heart.  This  battle  is  harder  than  a  thousand  with 
sword  and  gun!  Why  do  you  tell  me  my  love  is 
hopeless?  You  say  you  will  never  marry  any  one " 

"No,  monsieur.  But  you  make  me  very  sad.  I 
thought  you  would  keep  your  promise.  I  thought 
you  would  not  care  for  me  in  this  way — long.  I  have 
done  wrong  to  dance  with  you  as  I  have  to-night.  Ah, 
the  positions — the  fame — they — it  can  make  no  differ- 
ence. Once  it  might — but  it  is  too  late " 

"You  speak  sadly,"  the  Cavalier  mused.  "Is  it 
truly  for  me?  Do  you  love  another — but  you  say  you 
will  not  marry  any  one!  Is  it  then  that  old  love — 
the  one  that  was  drowned — Baddeau?" 

"No,  monsieur,"  she  murmured,  like  a  frightened 
bird.  Her  regard  for  this  man  as  a  friend  chained  her 
to  the  spot  when  every  other  desire  was  to  fly,  and  so 
escape  from  a  painful  position. 

"I  reckon Then  he  is  already  married,"  he 

said,  deep  in  the  problem.  But  doubt  and  jealousy, 
mingled  with  anger  for  one  who  thus  kept  happiness 
from  two,  swept  him  off  his  feet.  "Marie,  tell  me! 
who  is  he?"  And  close  in  the  shadow  of  the  quaint 
old  house,  he  seized  and  held  her  by  the  arm. 

"Monsieur!  Let  me  go!  The  question  it  is  not 
honorable.  Monsieur!  I  am  surprised " 

"Forgive  me,  Marie.  I  forget  myself.  Gods!  But 
who  is  the  man?"  he  groaned,  turning  himself  about. 
"What  fortune  to  come  to  him — and  he  may  care 
nothing  for  it !  Heavens !  that  could  not  be.  Married, 
he  may  be  fettered  worse  than  I " 

"Hush,  monsieur!     I  have  not  said " 


3H  The  Wolverine 

"No — not  right  with  words.  But,  Marie,  I  am  not 
blind.  Heaven  forgive  me!  you  have  suffered  too; 
and  I  have  thought  only  of  myself!  A  right  fine 
beast  I  am!  I  would  pry  into  your  heart — the  heart 
I  would  give  worlds  to  call  mine.  God  help  me  to 
be  a  man!"  he  cried,  with  sudden  altered  emotion.  "I 
see —  I  see!  It  is  North!  The  lucky  fool — and  he 
will  not  marry  you  because  you  are  a  Catholic!  Gods, 
such  fanaticism!  I'd  marry  a  nigger  if  I  loved  her 
as  I  love  you!" 

"Monsieur  le  gouverneur,  you  are  beside  yourself! 
Mere  de  Dieu,  how  I  pray  it  might  be  different!  Not 

this — not  this  that  you  wish But  just  friends.  Ah, 

I  think  of  you  much  as  a  friend — as  a  noble  man. 
Let  it  be  so  always.  Good  night !"  She  spoke  quickly, 
and  then  flew  to  the  house.  He  stretched  out  a  hand 
to  detain  her,  but  she  eluded  him,  and  disappeared 
within  the  door. 

"  'A  noble  man !' "  he  repeated  with  scorn,  turning 
away  fiercely.  "What  does  it  matter  if  she  will  not 
have  me?  But  I  shall  win  her — I  shall  win  her  yet!" 
And,  beating  the  empty  night  air  wildly,  he  hurled 
himself  down  the  path  toward  the  river  that  sparkled 
under  the  moon. 

One  emotion  followed  another  with  almost  the 
rapidity  of  his  flying  feet.  "  'A  noble  man/  "  he  mur- 
mured again,  now  with  a  note  of  sadness.  "  'Tis  easy 
to  be  noble  when  I  remember  her  face.  Gods!  I 
reckon  I  could  follow  that  face  to  the  bottomless  pit! 
But  Marie  Beaucceur  goes  not  that  way.  North — 
the  yellow-headed  fool!  She  did  not  deny  it!  And 
to-night  she  gave  him  my  dance  to  promenade  out 


The  Wolverine  315 

under  this  moon.  Heavens!  what  riches  come  to 
some  men!  The  pious  fool  keeps  away  from  her 
because  of  her  religion — he  is  making  her  unhappy! 
I  could  punch  his  head — curse  him!" 

Staggering  along  the  path,  Mason  came  to  the  great 
elm  overshadowing  the  water.  The  moon  made  a 
silvery  path  to  his  feet.  Across  the  path  lay  Marie's 
canoe,  moored  at  the  roots  of  the  tree.  He  was  in 
no  mood  for  sleep.  The  scene  invited  him.  But 
before  entering  the  canoe,  he  took  another  look  at 
the  house  that  sheltered  Marie. 

"  'Tis  but  the  third  refusal,"  he  murmured,  grimly 
making  himself  the  subject  of  some  humor;  and  then, 
seriously:  "Because  most  things  have  come  to  me 
easily,  can  I  expect  the  prize  of  my  life  to  drop  into 
my  arms?  I  reckon  not!  'A  noble  man.  Let  it  be 
so  always.'  Heaven  helping  me,  I  will!  And  I  will 
win  her  yet!" 

Then  he  paddled  away  backward,  that  he  might 
keep  in  view  the  house  that  held  his  love.  Did  she 
sleep?  or  was  she  tossed  about  by  the  problems  of  her 
life?  Mason  doubted  not  the  latter  was  the  case,  and 
remembering  his  rival,  hissed — "The  fool!"  and  prod- 
ded the  water  with  sudden,  overpowering  rage. 

A  little  way  from  him  "the  fool"  drifted,  tossed  with 
waves  which  met  no  resistance  from  his  canoe.  Prone 
in  the  bottom  he  lay — now  staring  at  the  feebly 
twinkling  stars  that  stretched  above  the  gunwales — 
now  shutting  them  out  with  hands  that,  clasped 
over  his  eyes,  tightly  clung  to  an  aching  head. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE  waning  moon  had  risen  nearly  to  the  zenith. 
Had  her  cold  heart  been  capable  of  emotion 
she  might  have  felt  pity  for  the  two  lovers. 
One  drifted  because  he  had  grown  weary,  struggling 
against  odds.  The  other  labored  hard  that  he  might 
relieve  a  stress  of  mind  with  the  fatigue  of  muscle. 
Again  and  again  their  paths  crossed,  but  always  at  a 
safe  distance.  Why  did  the  moon  hide  herself  at 
last,  making  a  collision  inevitable?  and  why  did  she 
reappear  the  next  instant  to  reveal  the  identity  of 
the  two  so  unhappily  met? 

"Mason!  Confound  you! — why  have  you  followed 
me  here?"  cried  Perry  in  vexation,  starting  to  a  sitting 
posture. 

"The  Fool!"  exclaimed  Mason  in  surprise,  as  he 
looked  over  his  shoulder. 

"Yes — I  was  a  fool  to  think  the  thing  could  be  run 
away  from,"  Perry  returned,  lashing  himself  into  a 
rage.  "But  you're  a  greater  one  to  follow  me.  Take 
that — confound  you! — and  know  I'm  in  no  mood  to 
be  trifled  with!"  Perry  struck  Marie's  canoe  a  blow 
that  shattered  its  side  nearly  to  the  water-line,  and 
the  Governor  barely  escaped  upsetting. 


The  Wolverine  317 

"Deuce  take  you!  What  do  you  mean,  North?  Are 
you  drunk?"  And  in  a  frame  that  matched  the  other's, 
Mason  gave  back  as  good  as  was  sent. 

Moved  by  sudden  frenzy,  both  men  allowed  free 
range  to  their  passions.  They  had  lost  their  heads 
for  the  time,  but  not  their  skill  as  canoeists.  The  cur- 
rent separated  them,  but  with  dexterous  strokes  they 
faced  about  and  bore  down  upon  each  other. 

It  was  an  odd  naval  battle  that  followed,  there, 
under  the  yellow  light  of  a  dying  moon.  Now  the 
two  canoes  rammed  each  other  with  all  the  force  that 
trained  muscles  could  impart.  Now  they  slipped 
along  side  by  side,  and  paddles  became  fierce  battle- 
axes,  and  blows  that  were  not  parried,  fell  on  head 
and  shoulders.  Again  the  current,  like  a  peace-loving 
third  person,  intervened,  and  the  combatants  were 
separated — but  only  for  a  moment. 

Did  they  seek  each  other's  lives?  Certain  it  is  they 
came  together  with  the  fury  of  wild  beasts,  and  prob- 
ably with  no  more  thought  or  intention.  In  the 
renewed  struggles  they  lashed  the  water  to  a  foam, 
and  a  line  of  yellow  bubbles  floated  away  with  the 
silent  current.  Again,  the  two  were  completely  hid- 
den in  a  cloud  of  spray,  thrown  up  by  paddles  which 
seemed  to  work  in  air  and  water  at  the  same  time. 
Had  there  chanced  a  spectator  to  the  scene,  he  would 
have  thought  a  mortal  combat  was  taking  place  be- 
tween two  unknown  giant  saurians  of  the  deep.  What 
a  story  he  would  have  told  about  town  next  day! 
And  how  the  thing  would  have  spread  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  with  all  the  details  of  snakelike  heads,  enor- 
mous sinister  eyes,  and  mammoth,  scaly  bodies!  For 


3J8  The  Wolverine 

an  excited  imagination,  under  the  half-veiled  moon, 
could  easily  have  seen  all  these. 

No  words  were  spoken  to  give  hint  of  human 
agency  in  the  fight.  Each  combatant  looked  upon 
the  other  as  continuing  the  strife,  and  each  was  more 
than  eager  to  meet  his  assailant  half  way.  Had  either 
been  questioned,  he  would  have  declared  the  other 
began  the  attack,  and  that  he  himself  was  acting  on 
the  defensive.  Strong  men,  they  panted  with  the 
fierceness  of  the  struggle,  trembling  with  such  rage 
as  baffled  their  very  endeavor.  Perry  madly  recalled 
the  times  he  had  been  pitted  against  Mason  in  one 
way  or  another — the  play  particularly  was  in  his  mind ; 
this  should  not  end  as  that,  he  vowed,  and  redoubled 
his  efforts. 

It  was  a  strange  duel — so  Mason  thought,  even  in 
the  excitement  of  fierce  conflict — but  such  only  as  his 
antagonist  would  fight.  More  than  once  they  had  dis- 
cussed the  ethics  of  duelling  after  a  meeting  of  their 
friends  on  British  soil,  where  affairs  of  honor  were 
generally  settled.  Perry  could  find  some  excuse  for  a 
thing  done  in  passion,  but  a  cold-blooded  affair  with 
pistols  was  without  his  principles. 

The  last  time  the  canoes  rammed  each  other,  the 
prow  of  Perry's  cut  through  the  side  of  the  other  near 
the  bow,  and,  for  a  space,  was  firmly  held  there. 
Kneeling  in  their  respective  barks,  neither  belligerent 
was  within  striking  distance  of  his  antagonist:  then  it 
was  that  the  fight  degenerated  into  a  spraying  con- 
test. In  a  twinkling  both  parties  were  wet  to  the  skin 
with  a  shower  that,  in  a  less  heated  moment,  would 
have  felt  like  a  plunge  into  Arctic  waters.  No  doubt 


The  Wolverine  319 

it  acted  in  a  measure  to  quench  the  fires  which  had 
kindled  their  rage.  Besides,  the  desperate  effort  with 
paddles  presently  liberated  their  locked  canoes. 

They  began  circling  about  a  common  center,  eyeing 
each  other,  apparently  for  a  favorable  opening.  Now 
that  they  could  think  of  a  thing  apart  from  their  imme- 
diate wrath,  the  likelihood  that  either  would  take  the 
initiative  in  renewing  the  battle  was  small.  Both  had 
been  severely  punished.  Mason's  canoe  was  slowly 
filling  with  water. 

In  estimating  his  strength,  Perry  had  calculated 
without  the  wound  received  from  Gettler.  A  year 
had  passed,  and  given  him  no  trouble  from  that 
source.  But  as  soon  as  the  excitement  of  the  fight 
began  to  abate,  he  found  his  heart  fluttering  strangely. 
A  moment  later,  his  paddle  dropped  from  his  hands, 
and,  in  a  swoon,  he  fell  across  the  side  of  his  canoe, 
which  at  once  overturned.  Half  submerged,  the 
birch-bark  floated  away,  its  extremities  alone  showing 
above  the  surface  in  the  pale  moonlight.  Perry  had 
disappeared  beneath  the  water. 

"  'A  noble  man/  "  repeated  Mason,  as  one  beside 
himself,  and  again  as  a  child  with  a  phrase  newly 
learned.  Then  the  thing  broke  into  his  consciousness 
and  worked  a  miracle.  The  next  instant  he,  too,  was 
in  the  water.  With  sturdy  strokes,  he  forced  his  way 
toward  a  form  that,  limp  and  seemingly  lifeless,  had 
twice  risen  and  sank  beneath  the  waves.  The  course 
of  the  recent  combat  had  been  toward  the  right  bank 
of  the  river,  and  fortunately,  but  a  narrow  expanse  of 
water  intervened  now.  Skilled  as  he  was  in  the 
swimmer's  art,  it  was  no  easy  task  for  Mason,  battered 


320  The  Wolverine 

and  bruised,  to  accomplish  even  that  slight  distance 
with  his  unconscious  burden. 

Once  on  shore,  the  Governor's  dripping  form  hov- 
ered over  the  other  in  search  of  life.  As  he  tore  open 
coat  and  waistcoat,  a  step  sounded  along  the  river 
bank.  The  stooping  figure  started,  at  first  in  alarm, 
but  quickly  put  his  guilty  fears  from  him.  The  steps 
had  ceased.  Anxiously  he  listened,  and  presently 
was  rewarded  by  the  sound  of  movements  through 
deep  grass.  "Help!"  Mason  called,  in  a  voice  that 
sounded  to  his  own  ears  like  another's.  Was  it  only 
the  wind  that  he  had  heard? 

"Help!"  he  called  again,  louder. 

"Bon  Dieu!  eet  ees  monsieur  le  gouverneur!  What 
ees  ze  trouble?"  And  a  black  figure,  parting  the 
reeds,  peered  at  the  strange  sight  before  him. 

"Tetro — thank  God!  You  must  help  me.  This  is 
Mr.  North.  I  reckon  you  know  him.  He  fainted  in 
his  canoe  and  fell  into  the  river  like  he  was  dead.  I 
have  just  taken  him  out  of  the  river.  See — I'm  wet 
too.  I — we — how  far  is  it  to  your  cabin?" 

"No  mo'n  a  step,  monsieur  le  gouverneur.  We 
mak'  heet  easy.'* 

"But  Mammie  Chloe — is  she  with  you?" 

"Non,  non.  Don'  monsieur  recommember — ze 
demoiselles  zey  wish  Chloe  to  stay  at  ze  maison  zees 
neeght.  But  I  fetch  her  eef  monsieur  say  ze " 

"No,  no,  Tetro!  Mr.  North  and  I  would  rather  no 
one  knew  of  this.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Ah,  yez,  yez,  perfaitly,"  returned  the  negro,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  "I  spec's  ze  toddy  was  powerfu* 


The  Wolverine  321 

at  ze  grand  ball.  Gemmen  do  mighty  strange  t'ings! 
But  zees  garc,on  kin  keep  a  secret.  Ya!  ya!" 

Then  he  took  hold  with  Mason,  and  they  carried 
Perry  through  the  reeds  to  higher  ground,  thence 
along  a  path,  till  presently  a  rude  cabin  rose,  like  a 
dark  gray  patch  against  the  lesser  gray  of  the  moon- 
light. 

Within,  Tetro  soon  had  a  candle  lighted,  revealing 
a  room  as  neat  and  tidy  as  the  skilful  hands  of  Chloe 
could  make  it.  On  a  bed  to  one  side  North  stirred 
with  returning  consciousness.  All  the  blankets  in  the 
house  had  been  thrown  over  him,  and  Tetro  was 
replenishing  the  fire  to  give  further  warmth.  Mason 
moved  up  and  down  the  room  with  chattering  teeth; 
for,  since  the  wetting,  the  November  night  seemed 
like  mid-winter. 

When  at  last  the  fire  burned  briskly,  Tetro  was 
despatched  to  the  Armory,  where  both  men  had 
changes  of  clothing.  Armed  with  Perry's  keys,  the 
faithful  slave  did  his  errand  without  meeting  any  who 
might  ask  troublesome  questions.  Later,  he  proved 
of  invaluable  service  in  dressing  hands  and  heads 
that  were  bruised  and  scratched. 

"This  night's  work  was  like  to  play  the  devil  with 
us  both  at  one  time,"  declared  Mason,  after  numerous 
explanations,  when  Perry  was  once  more  in  posses-, 
sion  of  his  faculties.  The  two  men,  dressed  in  their 
military  uniforms,  were  extracting  comfort  from  a 
blazing  wood  fire.  Tetro,  in  an  outer  room,  was  pre- 
paring an  early  breakfast.  "If  the  town  had  awak- 
ened this  morning,"  continued  Mason,  "to  find  you  at 
the  bottom  of  the  river,  and  me  in  this  plight" — 


322  The  Wolverine 

nursing  his  wounds — "with  difficulty  to  explain 
things;  and  our  canoes  as  they  must  inevitably  be 

found "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  left  his 

companion  to  imagine  the  situation. 

"I  don't  understand  why  it  wasn't  so,"  replied 
Perry,  gloomily,  yielding  to  the  old  impression  that 
a  poetic  justice  ruled  in  the  natural  world, — "unless 
a  kind  fate  intervened  to  save  you  from  possible  hor- 
rible charges.  For  my  part,  I've  acted  the  fool  all 
along,  and  deserve  nothing  better  than  a  bed  at  the 
bottom  of  the  river.  I've  tried  to  play  the  lion  before 
the  world,  but  everyone  has  seen  the  long  ears  through 
the  disguise,  and  when  I've  opened  my  mouth  they've 
heard  me  bray.  I  say  it's  time  to  quit!  Why  in  the 
name  of  Justice,  didn't  you  leave  me  to  drown?" 

"Let  it  go  that  it  was  the  possible  horrible  charges," 
returned  the  other,  with  emotions  that  failed  to  do 
him  justice.  He  was  pacing  up  and  down  from  corner 
to  corner,  to  get  the  greatest  length  in  the  narrow 
quarters.  "I  reckon  you're  needlessly  hard  on  your- 
self, North,"  he  continued,  magnanimous  when  his 
rival  attacked  himself.  "I  reckon  I  know  how  you 
feel."  But  he  was  wondering  more  at  his  own  prompt- 
ings— "A  noble  man,"  kept  running  through  his  head, 
rilling  him  with  impulses  both  romantic  and  chival- 
rous. "I  reckon  neither  of  us  will  deny  that  he's  in 
love  with  Marie  Beaucceur,  and  that  it  was  jealousy 
that  made  us  fight  when  we  met,  unexpectedly,  out  on 
the  river " 

"It  was  the  toddy,"  asserted  Perry,  starting  up 
excitedly; — "and  by — anything!  it  sha'n't  make  a  fool 
of  me  again.  I'll  drink  nothing  but  water, — so  help 


The  Wolverine  323 

me — God!"  The  words  came  at  the  close  like  a  rev- 
erent and  humble  prayer,  though  he  had  started  out 
feeling  little  faith  in  anything  above  himself,  and 
never  had  he  so  completely  lost  faith  in  himself 
before. 

"Toddy — nothing!"  retorted  Mason.  "A  hundred 
men  drank  more  toddy  last  night  than  you; — why 
didn't  they  all  come  out  here  and  sink  my  canoe, 
batter  me  over  the  head,  and  get  battered?  It  was 
Marie  Beaucceur; — be  a  man,  North,  and  own  the 
coin!" 

"Well — and  what  if  it  was?"  demanded  Perry,  tes- 
tily. 

"She's  too  good  for  either  of  us,"  answered  Mason. 
"But  we  can  act  like  white  men  in  the  future,  I'reckon, 
and  not  go  into  a  stag-fight  over  her.  Let  the  best 
man  win  her,  according  to  civilized  customs,  I  say, 
and  make  her  happy  the  rest  of  her  days." 

"That  means  you,  Governor,"  returned  Perry,  fall- 
ing back  into  the  gloom  that  possessed  him.  "She 
couldn't  be  happy  with  me.  She  wouldn't  have 
me " 

"Have  you  ever  asked  her?"  Mason  questioned 
suddenly,  mindful  of  nothing  so  much  as  the  repeated 
rejections  he  had  received. 

"N-no,"  faltered  Perry. 

"I  have  three  times!"  There  was  cynicism  in  the 
accent  and  curl  of  his  lip,  but  at  the  end  the  tones 
softened  into  an  unconscious  demand  for  sympathy. 

Perry  was  on  the  point  of  resenting  the  question, 
when  this  confession  and  the  accompanying  feeling 
completely  turned  his  choler.  Marie  had  refused  him 


324  The  Wolverine 


— the  Governor — three  times!  All  the  fame  and 
honor  and  position  had  not  been  sufficient  to  win  her. 
Perry's  countenance  cleared.  But  in  spite  of  this  he 
declared,  like  a  petulant  boy, — "I  don't  know  that  I 

want  her  for  a  wife "  Yet  he  was  mindful  of  the 

happiest  possibilities. 

"That's  it!  That's  where  you  play  the  ass!  That's 
where  you're  acting  like  a  fool!"  cried  Mason,  disgust 
for  his  rival's  stupidity  augmented  by  rebellion 
against  his  own  hard  lot.  "You  don't  know  what  you 
want.  But  I  know!  You  do  want  her — but  you're 
not  man  enough  to  put  old  prejudices  behind,  and 
walk  up  and  ask  her  to  be  your  wife.  I've  small  pa- 
tience with  you.  If  there  weren't  others  to  suffer  I 
could  wish  you  out  there  at  the  bottom  of  the  river." 
And  finally  breaking  into  maledictions,  the  young 
Governor  declared  he  could  put  him  there  with  a 
good  heart — cursing  himself  for  having  been  weak 
enough  to  rescue  a  fool! 

Why  did  he  talk  thus?  Why  was  the  Governor  egg- 
ing his  rival  on  to  declare  himself,  when  it  might 
mean  the  destruction  of  his  own  hopes?  Mason  won- 
dered at  himself.  He  was  like  one  come  to  the  edge 
of  a  precipice,  and  his  sensations  invited  him  to 
destruction.  "A  noble  man" — he  heard  in  his  ears, 
and  acted  on  impulse. 

Perry  defended  his  position  weakly.  There  were 
many  things  to  think  of  when  a  man  chose  a  wife; 
he  said  this,  and  much  besides  that  was  trite.  But  in 
the  talk  he  worked  away  from  the  subject,  and  re- 
turned to  the  spectacle  the  two  had  made  out  on 
the  river.  "It  was  the  toddy,"  he  declared  again. 


The  Wolverine  325 

And  again  he  pledged  himself  to  have  no  more  of  it. 
He  told  Mason  of  his  early  life  and  training.  He  was 
not  meant  for  social  gaieties.  He  had  made  a  fool  of 
himself  every  time  he  tried  to  be  one  of  the  beau 
monde.  He  was  tired  of  it,  and  meant  to  return  to 
his  earlier  life. 

Perry's  dejection  had  a  line  of  humor  in  it,  but 
Mason's  laugh  was  not  hearty.  The  bit  of  cynicism 
in  its  ring  saved  the  Governor  from  giving  offense;  it 
so  plainly  said — "I  too  have  suffered!"  However,  he 
was  not  without  his  satisfaction.  He  had  leaped  from 
the  precipice  and  made  a  safe  landing;  he  had  more 
than  done  his  duty  as  "a  noble  man." 

"Messieurs,  ze  breakfas'  eet  ees  prepare',"  called 
Tetro,  thrusting  his  bald,  brown  pate  into  the  room. 

The  subject  was  one  they  could  not  take  before  the 
slave,  so  it  was  dropped  there. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE  conversation  in  Tetro's  hut  was  often  in 
Perry's  mind,  but  long  schooled  to  the  idea 
that  Marie  and  he  were  not  for  each  other,  it 
had  become  well  nigh  impossible  for  him  to  act.  The 
memory  of  his  mother  and  her  prejudices,  and  the 
recollection  of  that  fateful  night  at  the  Justice's,  were 
like  ball  and  chain  about  his  ankles. 

Marie's  correspondence  with  Elva  brought  her  often 
to  the  house,  ostensibly  for  a  talk  with  Mrs.  Rolland, 
regarding  interesting  matters  across  the  water;  so, 
though  they  seldom  met  in  society,  through  this  good 
woman  each  knew  pretty  well  the  life  the  other  was 
leading.  Marie  heard  of  the  stand  Perry  had  taken  in 
the  temperance  movement  which  swept  over  the  land 
at  that  period,  and  he  in  turn  cherished  the  report  that 
at  a  succeeding  ball  she  danced  but  once  with  the 
Governor.  But  matters  went  no  further. 

In  politics,  however,  great  strides  had  been 
achieved.  An  irregular  assembly,  called  by  the  Whigs 
in  derision  "The  Frost-bitten  Convention,"  had  voted 
to  accept  the  boundaries  prescribed  by  Congress,  and 
the  authorities  at  Washington  had  at  once  declared 


The  Wolverine  327 

Michigan  a  State  in  the  Union.  But  no  sooner  was 
the  quarrel  with  Ohio  settled  than  the  sky  became 
lurid  with  possibilities  of  foreign  war.  The  Patriots 
of  Canada  had  become  active  on  American  soil,  and 
Governor  Mason  found  it  necessary  to  send  Perry 
with  a  squad  of  Bradies  to  Fort  Gratiot  to  bring  away 
the  military  stores  kept  there.  In  the  personal  inter- 
view between  the  two  men,  their  eyes  met,  and  each 
thought  of  the  night  they  battled  on  the  river,  and 
each  wondered  what  of  his  rival  and  Marie  Beaucoeur 
since  that  was  not  known  to  him.  It  was  a  desperate 
mission  the  Governor  proposed,  one  fraught  with  in- 
numerable dangers,  as  the  movement  must  be  made 
by  boat  through  narrow  channels  covered  with  thick 
ice.  A  thousand  experienced  lake  men  declared  the 
thing  impossible.  Could  the  Governor  have  an  ulte- 
rior motive  in  sending  him  into  the  jaws  of  death? 
Perry  had  questioned,  but  put  the  thought  from  his 
mind  as  unworthy  the  friendship  between  them. 
Another  moment,  and  he  welcomed  the  undertaking 
with  a  feeling  that  any  fate  was  better  than  to  con- 
tinue longer  in  the  present  paralysis  of  doubt  and 
indecision. 

Four  days  had  passed  now,  and  not  a  word  from 
the  little  band. 

Mrs.  Rolland  and  Bridget  were  paring  apples — 
slicing,  coring,  and  stringing  the  pieces,  when  a  quick, 
light  step  sounded  along  the  hall  leading  to  the  kitchen 
where  they  were  at  work.  The  knocker  had  failed 
to  announce  the  caller,  and  the  two  paused  in  their 
labors,  wondering  at  the  approaching  tread,  till  Marie 


328  The  Wolverine 

Beaucoeur,  fur-clad,  flushed,  and  rosy-cheeked,  stood 
before  them. 

"Letters  from  Elva!"  she  cried,  waving  two  folded 
bits  of  paper  above  her  head.  "I  was  at  the  post-office 
— and  when  I  found  one  for  me — I  inquired  for  you, 
Mrs.  Rolland!"  She  was  excited,  and  quite  out  of 
breath. 

Mrs.  Rolland  sprang  from  her  chair  to  seize  the 
missive  outstretched  to  her,  and  pans  and  parings  fell 
clattering  to  the  floor. 

"I  haven't  read  mine  yet/'  declared  Marie.  "They're 
both  from  London.  I've  seen  that!  The  Queen — I 
hope  Elva  has  been  to  see  her  crowned,  and  has  writ- 
ten all  about  it " 

'I  dinna  think  Elva  would  gae  sae  soon  after- 


began  Mrs.  Rolland,  and  then  recalled  the  flight  of 
time.  "Ay,  but  the  little  Laird  is  as  mooch  as  six 
months  auld.  If  she  hasna  written  me  a'  aboot  the 
bairn  I  shall  scold  her  fine.  Another  Laird  Percy! 
I  would  gie  my  een  to  see  the  bit  ween " 

"Faith,  an'  wit'out  yer  oyes  how  could  ye  see  the 
wee  thing  at  all,  at  all?"  demanded  Bridget. 

Each  had  flown  to  a  window  and  broken  the  seals 
that  held  her  letter.  Marie  read  aloud  the  first  para- 
graph that  presented  itself,  which  chanced  to  be  one 
in  the  very  middle.  "  The  young  Queen  is  so  charm- 
ing— this  I  think  I  have  written  you  before; — not  a 
beauty,  but  so  very  bright  and  interesting.  It  is  a  rare 
sweet  sight  to  behold  such  self-possession  and  dignity 
in  all  her  official  acts,  and  afterward  witness  the  girl- 
ish abandonment  with  which  she  romps  with  the  chil- 
dren  '" 


The  Wolverine  329 

Mrs.  Rolland  in  like  manner  from  her  window  read 
aloud,  retaining  her  accent: — "  'I  hae  written  Marie 
hoo  the  Queen  looks  and  acts  on  the  throne,  but  I 
moost  tell  ye  hoo  she  behaves  wi'  the  baby — my 
Laird  Percy ;  for  you  know  we  are  quite  of  her  house- 
hold while  staying  in  London '  " 

"Sure,  which  am  Oi  to  listen  to?"  cried  Bridget,  in 
distraction,  turning  her  head  first  one  way  and  then 
the  other. 

Marie's  laugh  trilled  forth.  "Of  course!  I'll  wait. 
Your  letter,  Mrs.  Rolland — we'll  listen  to  yours 
first."  Yet  while  mademoiselle  kept  her  ears  open 
to  the  other,  her  eyes  continually  sought  her  own. 

"Lay  aff  yer  wraps  an'  stay  wi'  us  the  day,"  begged 
Mrs.  Rolland,  when  she  could  dwell  on  a  thing  apart 
from  the  two  letters.  "I  wouldna  hae  ye  think  I  was 
sae  unmindfu'  of  my  manners.  Boot  a  letter  frae  the 
auld  hame  land  drives  a'  else  oot  o'  my  head.  That's  a 
deary!  I  moost  hear  aboot  the  Queen's  coronation 
again  afore  ye  gae.  Ay,  to  think  oor  ain  Elva — the 
lass — was  in  it  wi'  a'  the  ither  grand  folk!" 

"If  you  will  let  me  help  with  the  apples,  Mrs.  Rol- 
land," returned  Marie,  making  this  the  condition  of 
her  stay. 

"Bless  yer  bonny  sweet  face!  I  would  be  glad  o* 
yer  help.  Hoo  many  bushels  is  it,  Bridget,  that  are 
like  to  decay  if  they  arena  ta'en  care  of  at  ance?" 

"Faith,  and  is  it  o'  thrying  apples  ye  can  talk  in 
the  same  breath  wit'  the  blessed  Queen  Victoria  and 
all  the  gentle  folk  and  nobility?  Rotting  apples  and 
royalty!  Git  out  wit'  ye,  Mrs.  Rolland!  The  blissed 
Saints  know  there  is  enough  to  do,  Miss  Beaucceur, 


33°  The  Wolverine 

if  ye  will  but  stay;  but  first  let  me  git  ye  an  apron. 
Ye'll  be  spoiling  yer  purthy  gown." 

"I'm  mair  than  glad  ye  hae  droppit  in  to  see  me, 
Marie,"  said  Mrs.  Holland,  as  she  gave  mademoiselle 
needle  and  cord  with  which  to  string  the  pieces  of 
apples.  "There  is  sae  mooch  these  days  for  a  body  to 
talk  aboot.  I  mind  me  yer  brother  is  awa'  wi'  Meester 
North.  Hae  ye  no  heard  aught  frae  him?" 

"Nothing!"  breathed  Marie,  a  cloud  coming  over 
her  face,  and  for  a  time  the  white,  ear-shaped  pieces 
lay  a  motionless  heap  in  her  lap. 

"I  called  to  Doctor  Houghton  frae  the  door  as  he 
was  passing  this  morning,"  continued  Mrs.  Rolland, 
"an'  he  said  he  dinna  think  they  could  coome  through 
the  ice  that  has  formed  in  the  Lake.  I  pray  God  no 
harm  may  coome  to  the  lads!  But  it  is  a  pitifu'  time. 
I  dinna  need  to  ask  ye  if  ye  hae  heard  of  the  battle 
that  was  fought  yestere'en  on  the  island  doon  the 
river?  The  Doctor  says  the  number  killed  and 
wounded  is  mooch  exaggerated." 

"Oh,  I  hope  no  one  is  killed!"  protested  Marie  in 
agony.  "Governor  Mason  was  in  the  post-office,  and 
he  said  he  should  send  troops  up  to  meet  them  soon, 
if  no  word  came.  We  did  not  look  for  anything  from 
Antoine;  but  it  is  time  he — they  returned.  Major 
North  is  a  brave  man — but  he  will  not  lead  his  men 
into  needless  danger." 

"Indade  he  is  a  brave  man,"  interjected  Bridget. 
"Do  ye  moind  the  toime  he  saved  ye  from  the  niggers 
on  the  island,  Miss  Beaucceur?  I  had  just  served  the 
breakfast  whin  he  burst  into  the  house.  An'  I  moind 
how  the  rolls  burned  that  morning  whilst  I  list'  to 


The  Wolverine  331 

the  story  he  had  to  tell.  Her  Leddyship  was  wit'  us 
thin;  and  the  Dooke,  who  was  only  Colonel  Campbell 
thin,  called  that  evening " 

"Ah!  that  is  it  I  will  never  forget,"  said  Marie,  with 
quickened  pulses,  and  the  color,  which  the  atmosphere 
of  the  room  had  considerably  subdued,  came  back  to 
her  cheeks  in  full  measure. 

Having  thus  drifted  to  Perry,  the  conversation 
clung  about  him  for  some  time.  He  was  a  favorite 
with  his  landlady,  who  delighted  to  tell  the  many 
trifling  incidents  of  his  life  under  her  roof,  all  of  which 
revealed  an  honest  character,  mingling  simplicity, 
strength,  and  amiability. 

"I  think  I  was  the  first  to  greet  him  when  he  came 
to  Detroit,"  boasted  Marie,  after  a  time,  and  in  such 
genial  atmosphere  she  told  how  Perry  had  rescued 
her  brother  Francois  from  the  boys  who  bullied  him 
long  ago  on  the  Savoyard. 

"Sure,  and  he's  a  rale  gintleman,"  declared  Bridget 
warmly.  "Niver  once  in  all  the  toime  I've  known 
him  has  he  said  wan  cross  worrd  to  me — and  Oi'm 
not  denying  he  has  had  occasion.  Do  ye  moind, 
Mrs.  Rolland,  the  day  I  burned  his  shirt  bosom  by 
leaving  the  iron  to  stand  a  minute  too  long?  It  was 
the  day  me  brother  died.  But  phwhat  does  Misther 
North  say?  Faith,  Oi'll  niver  forgit  them  worrds; — 
says  he:  'Oi  kin  git  another  shirt,  Bridget/  says  he; 
meaning  it  as  sympathy  for  me,  as  wan  would  say — 
'Ye  kin  niver  git  another  brother  the  loike,  Bridget!' 
Ah,  'tis  a  koind  heart  the  Major  has!" 

So  the  hours  sped  by.  From  time  to  time  Mrs.  Rol- 
land carried  away  great  strings  of  apples  to  the  attic 


332  The  Wolverine 

where  they  were  left  to  dry,  hanging  about  the  mam- 
moth chimney  that  gave  warmth  to  the  low  apartment. 
In  the  afternoon  she  said  to  Marie: — "Would  ye  no 
like  a  peep  at  the  bonny  lot  I  hae  there?" — and  led 
her  up  the  two  flights  of  stairs  to  exhibit  the  house- 
wifely store. 

As  they  were  coming  away,  the  good  woman  recol- 
lected the  jam  she  had  over  the  fire — and  Bridget 
gone  out  to  a  neighbor's.  Excusing  herself  for  the 
haste  she  must  make,  Mrs.  Holland  flew  down  the 
passage,  but  stopped  long  enough  to  point  out  the 
door  leading  to  Perry's  workshop,  which  stood 
slightly  ajar.  "While  ye're  oop  here,"  she  called  back, 
"ye  maun  step  in  and  see  where  Meester  North  works. 
The  place  is  nae  sae  sacred  that  he  would  think  ye 
intruding.  It's  nae  a  bonny  sight — but  ye  maun  be 

interested  for  a  bit  look "  Scarcely  finishing  her 

sentence  she  sped  on  to  the  kitchen,  leaving  mademoi- 
selle to  turn  aside  or  not,  as  she  chose. 

In  spite  of  Mrs.  Holland's  words,  Marie  felt  some 
hesitation  about  entering  the  room.  It  was  almost  as 
if  she  would  steal  up  to  take  a  look  at  Perry  himself 
while  he  slept.  Then  she  recalled  the  fact  that  her 
brother  had  spent  many  happy  hours  there.  Ah,  she 
would  see  where  Frangois  had  worked.  Murmuring 
this  to  her  quickened  heart,  she  tiptoed  over  the  saw- 
dust and  shavings  that  littered  the  floor. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  she  paused  and  looked 
about,  half  daunted.  The  great  chimney  which  had 
warmed  the  other  part  of  the  attic  was  too  far  away  to 
have  any  effect  on  the  atmosphere  here,  and  Marie's 
breath  formed  in  a  little  clou4  before  her  face.  The 


The  Wolverine  333 

odors  of  the  kitchen  had  found  their  way  thither  and 
grown  stale.  Altogether,  the  place  was  scarcely 
inviting,  with  its  naked  rafters  and  barren,  unfinished 
walls.  The  one  redeeming  spot  was  near  the  win- 
dow, through  which  the  sun  shone  with  a  warmth 
that  was  both  surprising  and  grateful  to  one  stepping 
from  the  chill  shadow. 

This  must  be  where  Franqois  stood  when  he 
turned  the  lathe,  she  thought.  The  great  wheel  was 
in  reach,  and  putting  out  her  hand,  she  set  it  revolv- 
ing slowly.  And  there  monsieur  would  stand  and 
work!  She  tried  to  comprehend  what  that  work  was. 
The  tools  lay  about  the  bench  just  as  Perry  had  left 
them  when  the  summons  came  from  the  Capitol. 
Marie  picked  up  now  one,  now  another,  as  if  they 
might  answer  her  unspoken  question.  There  was 
the  great  wooden-framed  plane, — and  her  soft  hand 
attempted  to  fill  the  place  where  the  man's  large  one 
was  accustomed  to  grasp  it.  She  was  careful  to  re- 
turn each  tool  to  the  exact  spot  whence  it  was  taken; 
no  trace  should  be  left  for  the  master  to  discover  her 
invasion. 

Who  turned  the  lathe  for  him  now? — she  wondered. 
Francois's  strength  had  not  been  greater  than  her 
own.  And  forthwith  a  marvellous  picture  rose  before 
her  eyes: — in  it  she  herself  turned  the  lathe,  and  the 
master  worked  at  her  side.  But  it  was  not  work — it 
was  something  that  yielded  a  joy  never  experienced 
before.  For  a  moment  she  seemed  actually  to  see  him: 
his  strong,  muscular  frame — lithe  and  graceful  in  all 
its  activity — worked  away  on  some  problem  that 
absorbed  his  whole  mind;  his  hair — les  cheveux  d'or 


334  The  Wolverine 

— had  gathered  in  curls  on  the  brow  grown  warm 
with  exercise;  the  litter  of  work  was  about  him  and 
on  him,  but  only  to  add  charm  to  his  manly  appear- 
ance. 

Not  even  the  approaching  tumult  up  the  Gratiot 
road  could  draw  her  from  that  picture,  nor  the  noise 
of  people  scurrying  through  the  streets  below,  eager 
to  meet  the  little  band  returning  in  triumph  from  its 
hazardous  mission.  But  presently  something  else 
did:  a  book  which  Perry  had  been  reading,  and  had 
left  open  on  the  other  side  of  the  bench — and  yet  not 
the  book  either,  but  the  bit  of  lace  and  linen  that 
marked  his  place.  She  took  it  up.  Without  doubt 
it  was  the  very  handkerchief,  grown  yellow,  that 
Mere  Gobielle  had  given  her;  almost  the  last  bit  of 
work  she  had  done  before  becoming  utterly  helpless; 
and  for  two  years  its  loss  had  been  mourned  in  a 
peculiar  manner. 

"Mon  joli  mouchoir!  how  came  it  here — in  his  pos- 
session?" In  her  surprise  she  breathed  the  words 
aloud. 

"I  found  it  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  one  evening 
long  ago.  Then  it  is  yours?" 

This  answer  was  returned  as  soon  as  she  had  asked 
the  question,  in  a  voice  quiet  and  full  of  friendly 
assurance;  and  so  great  was  her  surprise  in  finding 
the  handkerchief  that  for  an  instant  it  prevented  as- 
tonishment over  this  other — Perry's  sudden  appear- 
ance. 

"Yes,"  she  returned,  forgetting  herself  in  the  joy 
of  recovering  a  thing  long  lost  and  prized ;  and  lifting 


The  Wolverine  335 

her  eyes,  for  a  single  instant  she  looked  frankly  un- 
abashed into  Perry's  face. 

Then  came  a  full  realization  of  her  stolen  position 
in  his  room,  and  the  greatest  confusion  followed. 
"Oh!  I  did  not  hear  your  step — I  did  not  know  you 
had  returned!  Mrs.  Rolland  sent  me  here — that  is, 

she  said  I  might  take  a  peep I  hope  I  have  not 

disturbed  anything.  Franqois  worked  here It 

was  that "  Blushing,  bewildered,  mademoiselle 

sought  to  explain  her  presence  in  his  room.  Blindly 
the  handkerchief  was  restored  to  its  place  in  the  book. 

"We  have  only  just  returned,"  Perry  explained, 
before  she  had  finished.  His  effort  was  to  relieve  her 
confusion  while  seeming  to  ignore  it.  A  gallant, 
manly  appearance  he  made,  dressed  in  his  buckskin 
uniform.  "I  relinquished  command  as  soon  as  the 
Governor  met  us,"  he  went  on,  "and  turned  down  a 
side  street  to  escape  to  my  rooms.  I  have  been  under 
considerable  strain."  He  put  it  thus,  lightly.  "The 
men  behaved  splendidly.  Your  brother — all  are  well. 
We  have  brought  off  the  stores.  The  handkerchief 
— if  it  is  yours " 

He  took  it  from  the  book  and  extended  it  to  her. 
Their  hands  and  eyes  met  at  the  same  time.  There 
were  questions  and  confessions  in  touch  and  glance 
which  words  would  not  have  been  allowed  to  convey. 
Further  struggle  against  the  inevitable  was  worse 
than  useless  now,  and  barriers  which  both  had  long 
maintained  gave  way.  Mademoiselle's  shoulders 
lifted  with  intense  emotion,  seeing  which  Perry  for- 
got everything  save  the  passion  that  had  consumed 
him  for  months. 


33^  The  Wolverine 

"Marie!" 

It  was  a  cry — a  plea — a  command  out  of  the  infinite, 
and  their  two  natures  yielded  to  the  path  of  least 
resistance.  Perry  held  her  in  his  arms  as  if  a  moment 
had  been  given  him  out  of  all  eternity.  But  when 
they  could  speak,  explain,  it  was  found  that  the 
moment  need  not  end  there,  but  might  drift  on  into 
unlimited  time  after  its  own  fashioning.  Yet  with  all 
the  joy,  recollection  of  that  night  at  the  Justice's 
crowded  upon  the  lover,  and  an  impulse  to  resolve 
every  doubt  forced  him  to  seek  explanation. 

"But  you  told  me  once  you  had  forgiven  me  that," 
replied  Marie,  lifting  her  face  toward  his.  Something 
in  her  tears  and  the  words  recalled  their  parting  on 
the  river  bank  after  he  had  saved  her  from  the 
negroes,  and  gave  a  further  revelation  of  the  bond 
between  them.  "Oh,  forget  it  too!"  she  begged  with 
faltering  lips. 

That  look  into  her  heart  was  enough  for  the  most 
exacting  lover,  and  Perry  never  alluded  to  the  fateful 
incident  again. 

"Then  you  do  love  me,  Marie?"  he  reiterated  as  a 
thing  almost  beyond  belief;  and  her  confession,  put 
into  words  for  the  first  time,  gave  him  the  most 
exquisite  moment  of  his  life. 

Perry  trembled  often  enough  afterward,  when  he 
thought  by  what  a  narrow  margin  he  had  reached  his 
happiness.  He  might  have  gone  on  living  the  same 
desolate  life  to  the  end  of  his  days,  had  he  not  met 
Marie  in  his  workshop  that  afternoon; — chanced  to 
meet  her,  he  called  it  at  first,  but  later  dropped  the 
term,  unable  to  believe  such  perfect  joy  as  was  theirs 


The  Wolverine  337 

could  come  except  by  design.  And  design  implied  a 
Designer — which  meant  Providence, — leading  him  in 
time  back  to  a  faith  akin  to  his  mother's. 

"A  bit  of  earthly  love  helps  maist  wonderfu'  to 
reveal  the  love  of  our  Heavenly  Father;  that,  and  the 
warks  o'  the  gude  Doctor  Chalmers,  have  done  the 
pairt  of  a  revival  in  the  lad's  heart,"  said  Mrs.  Hol- 
land to  Perry's  sister,  at  the  time  of  Laura's  first 
visit  to  Detroit,  a  year  after  her  brother's  marriage. 
"I  was  maist  afeared  for  his  releegious  preenciples 
when  he  telt  me  the  Romish  Priest,  Father  Kundig, 
was  to  solemnize  the  wedding.  But  the  next  Sabbath 
he  came  wi'  his  bonny  bride  to  his  ain  kirk,  and  there 
they  hae  baith  continued  maist  faithfu'  syne  the 
first.  Marie  is  nae  sae  simple  to  understand, — but 
bonny  and  sweet,  as  ye  say.  I  doot  not  she  leads  her 
husband  a  gay  dance,  but  ony  sic  a  ane  as  a  braw 
lad  loves  frae  his  lass.  Ay!  and  he  is  honored  by  the 
people,  as  ye  maun  see  syne  they  aye  put  him  forward 
when  the  grand  folk  coome  to  toon.  First,  it  was 
juist  to  deliver  a  toast  at  the  reception  gi'en  to  Har- 
riet Martineau,  and  noo  he  is  to  be  master  o'  cere- 
monies during  the  veesit  of  Daniel  Webster.  Perry 
has  a'  that  a  man  could  ask — and  I'm  no  denying 
the  lad  deserves  it." 

"If  mother  could  only  have  lived  to  see  it/'  sighed 
Laura. 

"Ay,  but  do  ye  no  think  they  ken  it  a'  in  Heaven?" 


Two  New  and  Appealing  Characters 


SUSAN  CLEGG  AND  HER 
FRIEND  MRS.  LATHROP 


By  ANNE  WARNER 
Author  of  "A  Woman's  Will"  16mo.     Cloth.     $1.00 

ri^HE  original  character  drawing  and  quaint  humor  and  fun 
JL  of  this  volume  have  not  been  surpassed  by  any  American 
writer  of  the  day.  Susan  Clegg  and  Mrs.  Lathrop  have  become 
great  favorites  and  widely  known.  The  chapter  titles  are  as 
follows:  I.  The  Marrying  of  Susan  Clegg ;  II.  Miss  Clegg's 
Adopted  ;  III.  Jathrop  Lathrop 's  Cow ;  IV.  Susan  Clegg's 
Cousin  Marion ;  V.  The  Minister's  Vacation. 


The  Heroine  with  the  Marvellous  Voice 


SWEET    PEGGY 


By  LINNIE  SARAH  HARRIS 

With  frontispiece.     12mo.     $1.50 

A  SUMMER  idyll,  with  love,  music,  and  nature  for  its  themes, 
and  the  mountains  and  lakes  for  its  scenes.     The  heroine, 
Peggy,  is  charming,  fresh,  and  unconventional,  with  a  genuine 
love  for  song.     The  country  neighbors  with  their  peculiarities 
give  touches  of  both  humor  and  pathos  to  this  appealing  story. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,   6-    CO.,   PUBLISHERS,   BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellers' 


An  Ingenious  and  Engrossing  Romance 


THE 
PRINCESS    THORA 


By  HARRIS  BURLAND 

Author  of  "Dacobra."  Illustrated.     ISmo.     $1.50 

A  REMARKABLY  absorbing  romance,  conceived  and  plan- 
J\.  ned  with  fine  imagination,  yet  carried  out  with  all  the 
vivid  actuality  and  plausibility  of  the  most  prosaic  "  detective" 
story.  The  nearest  counterpart  of  this  engrossing  and  very 
unusual  narrative  is  perhaps  to  be  found  in  the  work  that  first 
made  Rider  Haggard  famous,  though  the  story  owes  literally 
nothing  to  anything  that  has  gone  before,  so  startlingly  novel  is 
its  theme  and  so  boldly  convincing  is  its  execution. 


Richard  Le  Gallienne's  New  Book 


PAINTED  SHADOWS 


By  the  Author  of  "The  Love-Letters  of  the  King,"  etc. 
12mo.     $1.50 

MR.  LE  GALLIENNE'S  new  book  displays  in  a  remarkable 
degree  his  fine  imagination,  charming  style,  and  the  high 
quality  of  his  verse.  "  The  Youth  of  Lady  Constantia,"  "  The 
Wandering  Home,"  "The  Shadow  of  the  Rose,"  "Beauty's 
Portmanteau,"  and  "Old  Silver"  are  equal  to  his  best  work, 
and  the  story  which  bears  the  title  "  Poet  take  Thy  Lute  "  will 
appeal  especially  to  those  who  love  what  is  best  and  most  beau- 
tiful in  literature. 

LITTLE,    BROWN,    &    CO.,    PUBLISHERS,    BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellers 


An  Ingenious  Story  of  London  Life 


ANNA 
THE    ADVENTURESS 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 
Author  of  "  A  Prince  of  Sinners,"  etc. 
Illustrated.     320  pages.     12mo.     $1.50 

"Two  sisters,  Anna  and  Annabel,  who  look  alike,  are  the 
heroines  of  this  ingenious  novel  of  London  life.  Sir  John 
Ferringhall  marries  one,  believing  her  to  be  the  other. 
The  consequences  of  this  bold  deception  Mr.  Oppen- 
heim  has  unfolded  to  us  with  remarkable  ingenuity.  The 
story  sparkles  with  brilliant  conversation  and  strong  situ- 
ations," says  the  St.  Louis  Republic. 

An  invigorating  romance  which  carries  the  reader  along 
to  the  end  with  excitement  and  interest. — London  Daily 
Express. 

A  story  of  London  life  that  is  at  once  unusual,  original, 
consistent,  and  delightful. —  Buffalo  Express. 

Powerful  and  captivating.  —  Liverpool  Courier. 

Mr.  Oppenheim  has  the  magic  gift  of  the  story-teller.  — 
Boston  Herald. 

An  entrancing  story  which  has  seldom  been  surpassed 
as  a  study  of  feminine  character  and  temperament.  —  The 
Outlook,  London. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,    y    CO.,    PUBLISHERS,   BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellers' 


A  Stirring  Tale  of  the  Plains 


THE     RAINBOW 
CHASERS 


By  JOHN  H.   WHITSON 
Author  of  "  Barbara,  A  Woman  of  the  West " 

FULL    of  the  atmosphere  of  the  "West,  with  Dick 
Brewster,  alias  Jackson  Blake,  cowboy,  land  specu- 
lator, and  lover,  for  its  hero,  Mr.  Whitson's  new  novel, 
without  being  in  the  least  a  copy,  has  many  of  the  attrac- 
tions of  Mr.  Wister's  hero,  "  The  Virginian." 

"The  Rainbow  Chasers"  is  a  virile  American  novel 
with  its  principal  scenes  laid  in  Western  Kansas  during 
the  land  boom  of  '85.  The  male  characters  are  vigorous 
men,  with  red  blood  in  their  veins ;  and  the  heroine,  Elinor 
Spencer,  is  a  high-spirited  but  lovable  Western  girl. 

The  Brooklyn  Eagle  says  :  — 

"  It  is  a  picturesque  narrative,  striking  in  its  portrayal 
of  conditions  that  have  vanished.  It  is  one  of  those  works 
of  fiction  which,  like  '  The  Virginian, '  deserve  to  rank  as 
books  of  social  and  economic  history,  because  of  the  pic- 
turing of  conditions,  vital  while  they  existed,  that  have 
passed  away." 

With  6  illustrations  by  Arthur  E.  Becher.     393  pages. 
12mo.     Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellers' 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


I 


A     000110466    0 


